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THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

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THE
SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

VOLUME IX

JULY TO DECEMBER, 1919

NEW YORK
THE SCIENCE PRESS
1919

Copyright, 1919
Tue ScreNcE Press

PRESS OF
THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY
LANCASTER, PA.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

JULY 1919
PHYSICAL REJECTION FOR MILITARY
SERVICE; SOME PROBLEMS OF
RECONSTRUCTION

By J. HOWARD BEARD, M.D.
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

HE draft has been a great inventory of the resources of the
T nation—it has shown both our physical assets and our
human liabilities. The material was found to be of good grade;
but 29.11 per cent. of the registrants were rejected by the
physicians of the local boards and 5.8 per cent. by the camp sur-
geons as physically unfit for general military service, a total
of 34.19 per cent.

The first draft was necessarily a rather coarse, hurried sift-
ing of the fit from the unfit, and usually did not go beyond the
defect sufficient to warrant rejection. The large percentage of
abnormalities discovered in men from twenty-one to thirty-one
years of age is the rate of the determining cause of rejection
and is inconclusive as to the coexistence of other surgical or
pathological conditions. For example, for such causes as
hernia, goiter or flat foot, quickly discovered defects, the sta-
tistics of the draft boards are convincing, but for tuberculosis
in individuals with goiter or heart disease in men with hernia,
they are incomplete.

The evidence available indicates fifty to sixty per cent. of
the men between thirty-one and forty-six years of age could
not have passed for general military service if the physical re-
quirements had remained unchanged.

The physical findings of the first draft to the public has
proved an unpleasant revelation; to the student of preventive
medicine the fulfilment of a prophecy. An examination of the
causes of rejection in reference to origin and manner of devel-
opment shows that many could have been easily prevented,
readily corrected, or promptly cured. In fact, we are so far

6 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

beneath our ability to increase the vigor, efficiency and happi-
ness of the race as to appear to be still within the shadows of
the dark ages.

CAUSES FOR PHYSICAL DISQUALIFICATION BY CAMP SURGEONS

It should be borne in mind that the statistics of the Report
of the Provost Marshal General are based upon ten thousand
two hundred fifty-eight records spread over eight camps. The
percentage of disqualification at camp varied between seventy-
twe hundredths per cent. to eleven and eighty-seven hundredths
per cent. (average five and eight tenths per cent.) under the
first draft, which was smaller than the national average (seven
and six tenths per cent.) for the period February 10 to Septem-
ber, 1918. The variation is due both to differences in standards
observed by examining surgeons, and to the region of the coun-
try from which the recruits are drawn.

TABLE I

CAUSES FOR PHYSICAL REJECTION BY CAMP SURGEONS—
NATIONAL ARMY EXPERIENCE UNDER First DRAFT
OF THE SELECTIVE SERVICE ACT OF 1917

Causes for Physical Rejection Number Per Cent.
Be cc cpio Ney ote eal eutsl a fe Sichele liapeetaraalelinlaieie tere laiavete 2,224 21.68
TL EXC} dT ase tain HEROIC ET Fi8 By OER eae ev COT Sg HA 871 8.50
8 Sree bE aS) 3 RRR ep IN LISS AR OURAN BAU 766 TAT
1 DET Quaid Pie sien Aare dtr aan Sa TN die ed 609 5.94
HTCATE CISCASGI ie oie or ioe le eRe ocala aah a onal 602 5.87
TTRDOKCHIOSIS He ae eR. Ane aaa ee 551 5.37
iMontally deficient Gave viele ayero a sls dehalle', 465 4.53
Genito-urinary), (VENeETEAD)! io sjcjercis eialslele dats cele e 438 4.27
Physical undevelopmient: iors «| >'s.c:nicie oi id aeons 416 4.06
Nervous disorders (general and local)........ 387 3.77
PUIAELOOG oe a area eee eRe PS lobes Grataeiatn ete 375 3.65
ETRE Cte Hees LHeheru arquenuasceraebanwieneiens Bowens Mise oie Ate 346 3.37
J E-Y05 a Cat Ve pet PIES At HAM LOK Neo Ie Sts an MTG a 304 2.96
BLOG VESSElS i eehiaiiya aloha etna enetel atohelelsvuare ena coon euaiy 191 1.86
Bf ate Coban (cig 0 OPAPP RRR nS fe en HES) n> RYE TA 163 1.59
EL OSDIPA TOL, 1h cls s\ole aliens lates ie edkteiciallelahel sels vaisicial eusils 161 1.56
Genito-urinary (non-venereal) .............. 142 1.39
SS Rean FEE as, chia alee ACAUS la Ma eule ieal a Pate Tad a 118 1.15
Tii-defined ‘or ‘not specified)(.s)) Janeway.) eee 93 91
1D heya Key) HORI SIBICIIOS FICE AID Ecicis Gals cea 82 80
Alecholism and) drug) habit) :).) 5). .)20jsieveia cele deus 79 Arle
WTISCI Se eee Lal oiia ses che or olalel AuaCaTet areal eHaE ta ol'a a 66 .64
IN OG SLA DE cratercialis eierela release leral ule ative Iataie's joie 809 7.89

Total number of cases of physical rejec-
LIONS 1COMSIGETER Nee Lie SiMe alate tate es 10,258 100.00

REJECTION FOR MILITARY SERVICE 7

Table I. shows that thirty-six and twelve hundredths per
cent. of all rejections were due to defects of the eye, the ear and
the teeth; eleven and twelve hundredths per cent. to hernia and
flat foot; five and sixty-five hundredths per cent. to underde-
velopment and underweight; five and thirty-seven hundredths
per cent of the total to tuberculosis.

We need only to consider the causes of disqualification for
military service in connection with the physical defects of
school children to see the close relation of the one to the other.

DISEASES AND DEFECTS OF THE EYE

Over one fifth (twenty-one and sixty-eight hundredths per
cent.) of the physical disqualifications for military service was
due to disease of the eye. Gonorrhea, syphilis, trachoma and
the accidents of carelessness and ignorance—preventable causes
—are responsible for forty per cent. of all blindness. Eliminate
these and we may close four of every ten of our institutions for
the blind and use their maintenance funds for a necessary
charity.

As causes of impaired vision, uncorrected astigmatism,
short-sightedness and squint aggravated by close work are of
the first importance. Dufour has shown that the number of
pupils with myopia and the average degree of shortsightedness
increase from class to class and with the addition in school de-
mands. This form of myopia is usually primarily due to con-
genital astigmatism, a very common condition, and the conse-
quent strain upon the accommodation of the eye in the effort
to see. Risley has reported a series of cases in which astig-
matic eyes had passed, while under his observation, from
hypermetropic to myopic refraction.

Neglected squint is an important factor in the serious im-
pairment and destruction of vision. The bad advice to parents
that the child beginning to squint will grow out of it, frequently
has led to delay until the eye was blind. If the serious conse-
quences of procrastination were known, children would be no
more neglected than if they had appendicitis or diphtheria.

Rigid enforcement of the law relative to safeguarding the
eyes at birth and to the control of venereal diseases and
trachoma will save many eyes. Workers in occupations where
eye injuries are common should be required to use proper meth-
ods of protection. No child should be permitted to begin school
until his eyes have been examined by a competent oculist.
When, for economic reasons, parents are unable to have him
consult an ophthalmologist, the school board should make pro-

8 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

visions for his eye examinations. It will be better for society
and cheaper for the state to provide glasses to correct errors of
refraction than to bear the expense of class repetition, retarda-
tion or the result of delinquency, to which the eye defect may
be a secondary but determining factor.

DISEASES OF THE EAR

Diseases of the ear were responsible for five and ninety-four
hundredths per cent. of the rejections. With few exceptions,
auditory defects were the reason for disqualification. Middle-
ear disease, which causes eighty-five to ninety per cent. of all
deafness, usually has its origin in the nasopharynx and the
Eustachian tube. Approximately thirty per cent. of the deaf-
ness in the United States is due to the suppuration of the middle
ear during childhood. Ten per cent. of the discharging ears of
children are complications of scarlet fever, measles, or other
communicable diseases; in ninety per cent. diseased tonsils and
adenoids are predisposing causes. In a systematic oral ex-
amination of patients with adenoids, Tomlinson found some
grade of ear involvement in seventy-five per cent.

Where the function of hearing is impaired, the mentality of
the child suffers. He becomes inattentive, in many instances
difident, and frequently a class repeater. Partial deafness,
especially when it dates from childhood, is a disadvantage that
seldom permits the individual to attain the efficiency of which
he would be otherwise capable.

Much deafness would be avoided if diseases of the ear were
promptly treated by specialists and if parents would see that
the adenoids and enlarged tonsils of their children received
proper attention. Medical inspection of schools and free treat-
ment for children with disease of the nose, throat and ear whose
parents are unable to provide medical care for them should be
an important part of any program for the prevention of
deafness.

DEFECTIVE AND CARIOUS TEETH

Rejection of eight and five tenths per cent. of the regis-
trants on account of their teeth occasions no surprise in a nation
where decayed teeth is a disease of the masses and where sev-
enty to ninety per cent. of school children have defective teeth.
Had military requirements of previous wars been observed, a
much larger per cent. would have been disqualified. The loss
of a number of teeth both causes deformity of the face and im-
pairs digestion by decreasing the ability of the individual to

REJECTION FOR MILITARY SERVICE 9

masticate his food. The pus pockets and root abscesses are a
serious menace to general health.

Instruction in oral hygiene, the examination of teeth of
school children at least twice a year and a public clinic for the
benefit of those unable to consult a private dentist would give
the coming generation a digestion, a set of teeth, and a beauty
of countenance unequaled by any of its predecessors.

HERNIA

Hernia was the cause of seven and forty-seven hundredths
per cent. of all rejections. A number of the ruptures encoun-
tered are congenital or are superinduced by anatomical abnor-
malities. Chronic constipation, faulty posture, lack of exercise
and improper clothing, with resulting flabby abdominal mus-
cles, and sudden strain are important factors in its production.
Hernia to a considerable degree is preventable. Its presence is
proof of neglected surgery.

FLAT FEET

If flat feet were considered and treated with reference to
their predisposing causes, physical rejection on their account
would be much less than three and sixty-five hundredths per
cent. Flat feet should be recognized as weak feet before flat-
tening of the long arch has developed and the usual train of
symptoms are present. The body weight normally passes
slightly to the inner side of the center of the knee, through a line
prolonged from the crest of the tibia, through the ankle, over
the dorsum of the foot to the second toe. With the beginning of
eversion of the foot and the change of direction of the body
weight, it is only a question of time before the symptoms and
signs of flat foot become evident.

The importance of muscle insufficiency, improper nutrition
and communicable disease in the production of flat foot are
shown in the following table, taken from the statistics of
Ehrenfried:

Children under twelve years of age examined............. 1,000
Children with debility of the feet..............0.scancecs 440
CTV Eee a 2 — 8) LO) Fea 18
Ediopathie—physicnl debility 5... i ic cc ce ee cee ee 95
Secondary, due to some other condition ................:- 327

PRP TUICKOU A rome ee Bia drbkee sins ES g we RMGk eve ok wie 200

10 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

UNDEVELOPMENT AND UNDERWEIGHT

It creates no surprise that poor general physical condition
accounted for five and thirty-seven hundredths per cent. of the
rejections, when it is known that from fifteen to twenty-five per
cent. of the school children suffer from malnutrition. Defective
sight, deafness, difficult breathing caused by adenoids and nasal
obstructions, enlarged tonsils, contagious diseases, and insan-
itary home surroundings are preventives and deterrents of
normal growth.

Regardless of whether physical subnormality is an expres-
sion of one or a combination of these causes, it is preventable
and correctable. Its presence in a large per cent. of the popu-
lation is a reflection on our civilization and a menace to the
future welfare of the nation. An efficient system of child wel-
fare, medical inspection of schools, school lunches and physical
education throughout school attendance would insure the proper
development of children to adults. An attempt to teach an un-
dernourished child is an attempt to decorate before laying the
foundation. The small cost of the school lunch, in most in-
stances, should be borne by the child; if necessary, it should be
paid for by the school. The better work of the child and the in-
structional value of the lunch would well repay the trouble of
preparation and the expense.

The same undevelopment, bad home conditions and physical
handicaps which contribute so largely to the production of sub-
standard individuals create pressing problems for the teacher,
the physician, the sociologist and the penologist. The physically
defective individual, denied his inalienable rights of adequate
food, healthful environment and proper medical care falls an
easy prey to disease, may develop anti-social tendencies, or, as
industrial flotsam, often settles along the shores of endeavor, a
‘hindrance to the launching of enterprise.

PHYSICAL DEFECTS AND DELINQUENCY

The loss or impairment of an organ destroys or decreases
the efficiency of the harmonious interaction of the other organs
of the body, and continued existence is the result of readjust-
ment. The resulting reaccommodation not only affects the
physical personality, but it may also give rise to deviation from
normal mental reaction. We are unable to estimate the exact
part played by defects of the ears and eyes, diseased tonsils and
adenoids, in the production of truancy and delinquency. Neither
are we able to determine the relation of undernutrition and
anemia to incorrigibility. We do know, however, that physical

REJECTION FOR MILITARY SERVICE 11

defects and undernourishment may be the precipitating cause,
when associated with such contributing factors as defective an-
cestral germ-plasm and oppressive environment. One indi-
vidual in good surroundings and well nourished, with a stable
nervous system, may survive. the misfortune of his physical
handicap; while a physical defect in another with an already
overtaxed brain may produce such nervous irritation as to give
rise to mental abnormality or antisocial tendencies.

PHYSICAL FITNESS OF WOMEN

While we have available no such extensive statistics for
women as for men, fragmentary evidence and comparison of the
findings of the medical inspectors of schools in the case of boys
and girls do not indicate that women are of better general
physique than men. All the major causes for physical disqual-
ification under the draft are by no means peculiar to the male
and may occur in the female. The first draft, therefore, may
also be considered a more or less accurate index of the physical
development and defects of the women of the nation between
the ages of twenty-one and thirty-one. From the view-point of
racial vitality and progress the physical development of women
is as essential as that of men—the prevention of disease and
physical handicaps perhaps of greater importance.

LEST WE REPEAT

A survey of the causes of physical disqualification in men
twenty-one to thirty-one years of age does not warrant extreme
pessimism in regard to the physical deterioration of the man-
hood of the nation, as a number of the defects are anatomical,
largely preventable, and do not indicate substandard general
physical condition. They are, however, an overwhelming, un-
answerable argument for the immediate adoption of a compre-
hensive system for the promotion of child welfare, for the med-
ical supervision of schools, for instruction in hygiene, and for
thorough physical training.

In this country 230,000 infants die annually. Before the
war an infant had six or seventeen chances in a hundred of
dying in the first year, depending on whether its father earned
over twelve hundred fifty dollars or under four hundred fifty.
One baby in twenty-five dies from diseases directly due the care
and condition of its mother during pregnancy and confinement.
The death rate among infants whose mothers go out to work is
twice that of those whose mothers are able to remain at home

12 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and care for them. Thousands of infants weather the first
years of life battered and weakened, forever handicapped in be-
coming effective members of society. Poverty and ignorance
underfeed from fifteen to twenty-five per cent. of the children
of the nation. Tens of thousands of human beings are being
reared in insanitary surroundings in which it is impossible for
them to attain normal growth and health.

In spite of its importance, required systematic learning of
hygiene, sanitation and physiology is an exception, even in our
institutions of higher learning. The present legal requirements
for these subjects in the elementary and secondary schools are
inadequate and are in great need of immediate revision. Mind
embellishment takes precedence over that knowledge which
would safeguard health and prevent the loss of life. A system
of education that does not prevent its finished product from
blistering his arm with a pepper plaster or from pouring sul-
phur in his shoes to avoid influenza is no more successful than
one that permits a student to graduate without a knowledge of
mathematics or of language. The draft has taught that in de-
veloping a child the gymnasium and library, the classroom and
the playground, the laboratory and the great outdoors are co-
ordinate. It has shown that in moulding efficient citizens to
support the nation in its hour of need the lowly sandwich, served
in a school lunch room, and fresh air may be as valuable as the
“rule of three.” In other words, social effectiveness is equally
dependent upon adequate mental and physical development.
The most valuable individual to the state is he in whom the
moral, physical and mental qualities are most highly developed,
absolutely correlated and in perfect harmony. The need of the
hour is that physiology, sanitation, hygiene and physical train-
ing should have place in our educational system, commensurate
with their importance to the individual and to society.

MEDICAL INSPECTION OF SCHOOLS

Medical supervision of schools should include a school nurse
service. It should apply to buildings and equipment, as well as
to the mind and body of the children. About twenty million
children, nearly one third of the population of the country, are
compelled to spend, on an average, five hours a day in school one
hundred sixty-five days in the year. Under such circumstances,
as effective precautions should be taken to insure proper ven-
tilation, lighting, heating, furniture and general sanitary con-
‘ditions in the school as to provide for the child’s physical wel-
fare as to enforce its attendance. It is obviously unfair to re-

REJECTION FOR MILITARY SERVICE 13

quire a child to occupy a seat likely to produce body deformity
or to study in a light that may impair its vision, yet this is done
throughout the nation. It is equally unjust to bring together a
number of young persons at an age when most susceptible to
communicable diseases without medical supervision, unless the
school is to provide a great disease exchange for the community.
In this connection it must be remembered that the twenty mil-
lion children of elementary-school age come in contact, more or
less intimately, with approximately twelve million others of pre-
school age. These younger children are very susceptible to in-
fectious diseases and are in the age group in which eighty-five
per cent. of the mortality occurs.

When medical inspection is carried out, a disease history of
the child will be obtained on entry, and an enormous number of
defects and functional diseases will be discovered that may be
corrected. It will provide a careful medical record preliminary
to physical training, will determine in what individual corrective
gymnastics are needed, and, by its periodical examination, will
ascertain the physical progress of the child. The community
should realize, however, that it is of little value to spend money
to discover defects unless provision is made to remedy them
when they are found. Each school district should provide a dis-
pensary service for school children and parents must be edu-
cated to save themselves expense by paying the family doctor a
small sum to prevent, rather than a large sum to cure, illness in
their children.

PHYSICAL EDUCATION

Physical education should have as its purpose the develop-
ment of the functional power of the child to the highest level
consistent with the most successful training of its intellect; it
should meet the needs of the weak, who require it most, as well
as of the strong; it should be graded for various ages; its prog-
ress should be determined by tests and measures of develop-
ment, strength, agility, endurance and ability to do. Its pro-
ficiency should be based upon well-defined accomplishments and
not upon one or two periods of exercise for a given time.

In general, provision must be made for the physical educa-
tion of three classes of individuals: (1) the physically normal,
(2) the subnormal, (3) the abnormal and physically defective.

The physically normal should not only be required to take
general exercise, but should be encouraged to select some form
of sport and to acquire a fondness for it. In the primary school
it may mean games and outdoor exercise; in the high school or

14 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

college the development of an ‘athletic hobby” to keep him in
“fighting trim” when required to lead a sedentary life.

The subnormal individual, underweight and understrength
for his age, undeveloped but organically sound, will require
special and general exercise to meet the tests of normal. Hav-
ing shown his ability by passing the required efficiency tests of
normal, he may be further educated as in the first class.

In the abnormal group we find individuals distorted as to
posture or carriage, but who may become greatly improved or
who may overcome their deformity by corrective gymnastics.
In this class we also have the cripples and those with heart
lesions, hernia, diseases of the joints, etc. A number of these
individuals could be cured by proper surgery, and would be, if
their parents were so advised by a medical inspector in whom
they had confidence. All would be greatly benefited by special
calisthenics and other light forms of exercise under medical
supervision. In many instances members of this group have
been led to attach too much importance to their condition.
Nothing will do more than safe, beneficial exercise to lift them
from the despair of chronic invalidism to the enthusiasm of
physical well-being.

Physical education is a great antidote for antisocial tend-
encies. It teaches temperance, self-control, courage and en-
durance. It produces the ability to play the game to the end
and to lose with a smile or to take victory with modesty and
magnanimity. It Americanizes and de-hyphenizes by the de-
mocracy of the playground and by the catholicity of its games.
It places the nation on the solid foundation of physical sound-
ness, morality and vitality.

Reconstruction must mean a new day, a new courage—a
new justice. Education must be revised to cultivate properly
the body as well as the mind. The slaughter and crippling of
infants by atrocious social conditions must cease. The under-
fed must be adequately nourished; children physically handi-
capped must receive medical care when the greatest number of
cures are possible. The treatment of mental defectives must be
inspired by scientific common sense rather than by ignorant and
foolish sentiment. Living conditions must be those in which a
human being can best live, grow and work.

SELECTIVE CONSCRIPTION 15

THE EUGENIC ASPECT OF SELECTIVE
CONSCRIPTION

By Dr. ROSWELL H. JOHNSON
UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH

HE future of a nation depends to a certain extent upon the
relative quality of those who survive a war and those
who perish. Coming generations are produced in larger part
by the non-combatant males, since a certain fraction of the
combatants never return, and of those who do return, some
are so incapacitated as to prevent marriage and parenthood.
It therefore behooves us to inquire whether the method of
selecting the group for this high percentage of mortality is
such that the individuals are on the average higher than the
average of the remainder of the same age and sex, or that
they are of average quality, or that they are inferior. It is
because this tremendously important question, which means
so much to the future of our race, seems to have been viewed
wholly from the standpoint of military efficiency, and admin-
istrative convenience, that it is desirable to consider here the
neglected eugenic aspect.

First we must compare the eugenic results of enlistment vs.
selective conscription. Voluntary enlistment is a definitely
selective process, no less selective because it is by the will of
the individuals. The individuals who have the will to enlist
differ in the long run from those who do not have the will to
enlist. Furthermore, this will to enlist is associated in differ-
ent wars with different qualities. In the Spanish War it is
probable that the love of adventure played a larger part on the
whole than in the Civil War or the Great War. When a country
is not suffering invasion the enlistments are of a somewhat dif-
ferent type of men from when it is. What is especially impor-
tant for our purpose is a consideration of the extent to which
idealism is effective. The more idealistic the aims of a war, the
more important it is that selective conscription should replace
enlistment early and completely.

Conceding then the superiority of selective conscription,
what should be the basis of selection, having reference both to
military efficiency and to post-bellum results?

Arbitrary limits of little selective importance should be

16 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

avoided, as the larger the range from which one may select, the
more discriminating the possible selection. Thus the draft age
limit should have been from 19 to 40 years from the outset of
the Great War. The exemption of the married, however, so
long as military exigencies permit, is desirable from a eugenic
standpoint as well as from various social and military con-
siderations.

Exemptions on physical grounds are of course necessary for
military reasons, but except for certain defects of no eugenic
significance, should be kept as few as feasible, for such exemp-
tions on the whole have a dysgenic effect by lowering the rela-
tive mortality of the exempts, since their physical inferiority
would be in some cases inherited to some degree. The exemp-
tion of those suffering from diseases or defects which are cur-
able without too great an expense or too long a period should
be discontinued, and an attempt should be made to restore such
cases in special restoration camps. Otherwise some inferior
groups will contribute unduly to the next generation.

But it is of course the mental (including the moral) at-
tributes which are of major concern from the standpoint of
post-bellum results. Necessarily there must be an exemption
of the highly unsuitable or markedly mental defective since their
uncertain conduct might endanger the lives of their associates.
On the other hand, the exemption of the merely dull-minded
who can be useful in digging, carrying and handling supplies
under supervision would be a serious error by saving for sur-
vival this group at the expense of their superiors.

Second, where a type of service or a detail for a special pur-
pose is especially hazardous, selection should be for the special
qualities needed and should exclude those who are also highly
superior in a wide range of qualities which are not needed.
It is at this point that the current methods are most faulty.
For instance, in the aviation service, the candidate, besides
passing some necessary physical tests, must in general have
been a college student. Mental tests for special qualities
needed in aviation should be elaborated at once to supplant the
present crude and socially and racially damaging method of
selection.

While selection for especially hazardous tasks by volunteer-
ing can not be wholly abandoned, in general, the officers should
select the men with reference to the particular quality needed
for the particular assignment and should avoid choosing men
who are far better for other assignments, but not better for
the assignment in question.

SELECTIVE CONSCRIPTION 17

Officers must necessarily be a select group for reasons of
military efficiency. For this same reason, the enemy wishes to
eliminate them. Care should therefore be taken to conceal
their identity when exposed to the enemy, and to limit such
exposure in so far as military efficiency permits. Officers of
no higher rank than necessary should be permitted to accom-
pany small parties on extra hazardous details.

The use of the present questionnaire for the selection of
draftees is vastly superior to the far cruder method at first
employed. Especially to be commended from the eugenic as
well as the social standpoint is the placing of technical experts
and important executives in late classes.

Unfortunately in the stress of war needs there is a natural
tendency to lose sight of ultimate results at the very time when
such results are most seriously at stake.

VOL. Ix.—2.

THE TRAIL THROUGH THE RAIN FOREST BENEATH THD MOSS, BESIDE THE FERNS.

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST 19

THE FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST

By CLIFFORD H. FARR, Ph.D.

WILLIAM BAYARD CUTTING TRAVELING FELLOW OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

HE marvel of the vegetation of the tropical rain-forest is
E the tree-fern. A tree in form and size and a fern in
structure, this plant has been indeed aptly named. Its stem
stands erect in the midst of the jungle to a height of fifty feet
in some instances, and its few large leaves form a crown at the
top very much like that of the palm. But tree-ferns are even
more beautiful than the royal palm, the most stately of that
group. The leaves are more finely divided, delicate and lace-
like, and are arranged in a perfect rosette; and the stem, far
more slender and graceful, has its surface moulded into a
unique pattern as if in terra cotta.

Tree-ferns are exceedingly choice in selecting their dwell-
ing places, and refuse to endure any sort of rigorous environ-
ment. In fact, they grow in the most evenly tempered climates
in the world. The average temperature of their habitat in
Jamaica is about sixty degrees Fahrenheit, and no variation of

THR LARGH-LEAVED Alsophila pruniata.

20 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

LOOKING UP A RAVINE.

Climbing Ferns to the right.

more than sixteen degrees above or below occurs throughout
the entire year. There are thus no cold winters nor hot sum-
mers with which to contend; and likewise there are no long
periods of drought usually, for the tree-fern grows where it
rains almost every day. The moisture-laden trade winds strike
against the north side of the Blue Mountains of Jamaica at an
elevation of about one thousand feet and slowly creep up their
slopes, the moisture precipitating as it cools. It is on such
slopes as these, at an altitude of about five thousand feet, that
the tree-fern is at its best. Here the minimum annual rainfall
is about sixty inches and the maximum about two hundred.
Not only does the tree-fern require a very moderate temper-
ature and a large amount of moisture both in the soil and air,
but it is also not adapted to withstand strong winds. Its
slender, unbranched stem, only two or three inches thick and
many feet in height, is extremely frail in comparison with the
trunks of other trees. Consequently, it must hide itself in the

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST 21

depths of narrow ravines through which only gentle zephyrs
move. Nor does the direct intense light of the tropical sun
usually fall upon most members of this group through long
periods, for other trees and perpetually veiling clouds shield
them from its actinic rays. Despite the fact that light is an es-
sential to plant activity, these curious forms, unlike other trees,
do not continue to flourish when direct sunlight strikes them
day after day. It is probably not the light of the sun, but rather
the heat which does injury to these plants. Long before the
engineer discovered that heat rays might be separated from
light rays by interposing a water screen, these ferns were en-
joying the beneficent activity of the ever-present clouds in ab-
sorbing the thermal portion of the solar radiation while trans-
mitting a large proportion of its light.

In fact, the tree-fern lives under very nearly perfect condi-
tions from the standpoint of a plant. There must be moderate
uniform temperatures, abundance of soil moisture, high humid-
ity, freedom from strong air currents, and a maximum amount

\4

gigas eee ge Ne

. +, 4

ee a re

_

ee
i, y ,”

WALKING FERN WITH DROP OF WATER ON. TIP.

22 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The Silver Fern. The Golden Fern.

The Black Fern. Like the Wings of a Bird.

FERNS OF MANY FORMS AND COLORS.

of light. Only the mountain rain-forest of the tropics can af-
ford this ideal combination of environmental factors. Here of
all places is the paradise of ferns. Ferns carpet the floor of the
forest and the walls of the steep-sided ravines. There are walk-
ing-ferns with the tips of their leaves projecting into a long
beak, curled at the end. Water repeatedly falling collects in a
drop on this little curl, and within this drop of water a bud
develops. As this bud increases in size and weight, the leaf
bends over, finally touching the ground where the new plant
can start life independently.

Then there are black ferns, the backs of their leaves densely
covered with black reproductive bodies, known as _ spores.
There is the silver fern too, but the white color of the under
surface of its frond is due to air within and among the minute
hairs which grow there. A similar cause is responsible for the
gilded appearance of the under side of the leaf of the golden
fern. Some ferns are very harsh and form dense, almost im-

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST 23

The most delicate. The smallest.
Hymenophyllum polyanthos. Hymenophyllum fucoides,

On a Moss-covered Log. Lacelike though sharp and harsh.
Trichomanes crispum. Trichomanes rigidum.

FILMY FERNS.

passable thickets; such are the hogferry, rambling fern and
certain species of forked ferns. Others climb the trunks of
trees, or perch on the branches. But the tree-fern, the aristo-
crat among them, stands head and shoulders above all its kin-
folk, both in stature and in esthetic grandeur.

In the old world tree-ferns are distributed between 47°
south and 32° north latitude; a few are found in the extreme
southern portion of Japan. They are most abundant, however,
in Australia and the Pacific Islands, though fairly numerous in
Ceylon, Java and New Zealand. The starchy pith of some of
the New Zealand species is used as food, or is fermented and
shipped to India, where it is consumed as an intoxicating bev-
erage called ‘“Ruckschi.’”’ In the western hemisphere their
range is more limited, from about 44° south to 25° north lati-
tude. The Hawaiian Islands and the Antilles, the Andes and
Central America have many forms, but they especially abound

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FERNS OF MANY SIZES BY THE WAYSIDE.

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST 25

on the island of Jamaica. Dr. Forrest Shreve has made a spe-
cial study of climatic conditions in their habitat in Jamaica,
and his interesting results were published by the Carnegie In-
stitution of Washington in 1914.

Tree-ferns belong to a single family known as the Cyathe-
aces, of which there are about two hundred species. Not all of
these species, however, are tree-ferns, but many have a hori-
zontal stem, as do ordinary ferns. These two hundred species
are grouped into four genera: Cyathea, Alsophila, Dicksonia
and Hemitelia. Of the last-named genus the tallest is Hemitelia
Smithii, growing in New Zealand to a height of less than
twenty feet. Cyathea reaches its greatest development in Ja-
maica, where the stems of two species, furfuracea and pubes-
cens, may measure more than forty feet. The maximum height
of Dicksonia is attained in Australia, where Dicksonia antarc-
tica is found at times to be at least sixty feet. In this same
region grows the tallest of them all, Alsophila excelsa, which
has been reported to lift its crown as much as eighty feet above
the ground.

The stems of tree-ferns rarely branch. When they do, it is
not a branching at right angles, but a dichotomous forking of
the main stem, resulting in two crowns of leaves. In some
species the leaves remain attached to the stem after they have
died, completely hiding it. Usually, however, after the work
of food-manufacture and spore-formation is finished the leaf
breaks away, leaving a scar which may be a half inch or more
in diameter. It is slightly oval and, like a cameo, elevated
above the surface of the stem. Every leaf-scar has markings
symmetrically arranged in some sort of pattern character-
istic of the species. These markings are a series of pores or
tubes through which water was carried upward to the leaves
and food materials downward to the roots. In Cyathea furfur-
acea a circle of twenty of these ducts, equally spaced, lies just
inside the margin of the leaf-scar. Within this circle is a
smooth triangular area bounded by eight more pores, the apex
of the triangle pointing downward.

These scars are arranged in seven longitudinal rows up and
down the stem, slightly winding about it in a sort of loose spiral.
This spiral is undoubtedly brought about by the torsion of the
stem during growth, the rigidity of the stem being so great that
it could not have been twisted after once being formed.

The area between the leaf-scars is covered with two kinds
of structures: the ramentum and the roots. The former, char-
acteristic of most ferns, consists of brown chaff-like scales an
inch or more in length. They envelop the young leaves and
roots, protecting them in their early stages. In all ferns the

26 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The Smallest The Largest.
Mixed with Spongy Lichens. Pessopteris crassifolia.

Hanging over a Rocky Cliff. Rambling over the Rocks
Note fruit-dots on under surface. amidst the Strawberry Leaves.

ENTIRE-LEAYED FERNS AND A Polypodium.

roots grow out between the leaf bases. The tree-fern thus has
no tap root at the base of the stem, nor is the latter deeply
sunken in the ground; hence, the necessity for tree-ferns to
avoid windy places. The lower end of the stem is located almost
on the top of the ground and the only means of support and
anchorage are the numerous small roots which clothe its base.
They are of about uniform diameter, rarely exceeding a fifth
of an inch, and about twenty or thirty are produced around
each leaf base. As the stem grows progressively upward, new
roots are formed between the new leaf bases and grow down
over the roots below, weaving in and out among them, forming

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST Zi

A Thicket of Dicranopeteris. Two Species of
Dicranopteris, and a
3racken fern below.

A Thorny Vine. A Dicranopteris pectinata,
Odontosorea jenmanni. showing the forking.

FORKED LEAVES AND RAMBLERS.

a compact entanglement, which at the base of the tree may be-
come several inches thick.

This curious method of root development gives rise to some
very interesting features in the life of this plant. The older
roots, as well as the base of the stem, die, though they do not
decay, so that the water for the leaves is carried by the younger
roots for several feet above the ground on the outside instead of
the inside of the stem. There is thus a greater amount of
moisture required in the soil and in the air to compensate for
the loss which is undoubtedly involved in the great exposure of
the conductive tracts. On the other hand, this is an ingenious
means of multiplying the number of conductive tubes, in the
absence of cambium, to enlarge the stem. Furthermore, by the
continued formation of new roots, the older ones may be dis-

28 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Leaf Sears. Crooked by tumbling.

Rarely does it fork. The roots that clothe the base.

THE STEM OF THE T’REE-FERN.

carded as soon as they cease to function without impairing the
supply of water to the leaves. At the same time, the dead tis-
sue of the roots and stem is utilized for support and for protec-
tion of the new roots.

Another beneficial feature of this mode of development of
roots is shown when an accident has befallen the plant. Tree-
ferns are especially liable to fall, both because of their slight
anchorage and the great erosion due to the steepness of the
slopes and the almost incessant rainfall. When a tree-fern falls

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST 29

The Monarch of the Jungle, Forty feet above the Soil.

THE CROWN OF THE TREE-FERNS.

upon its side, the new growth takes place in a vertical direction,
forming an angle with the fallen portion. The new roots pass
directly into the soil, leaving the prostrate portion of the stem
entirely useless. The accompanying photograph shows a stem
to which at least three such mishaps had occurred. When the
writer found it, the base of the stem was projecting away from
the soil, and only a few weak roots were keeping it from rolling
still farther down the hillside.

The leaves of tree-ferns are always quite large. In Also-
phila pruniata they frequently measure sixteen to eighteen feet,
forming perfect arches beneath which one may walk without
disturbing a single leaflet. The main axis of some of the fronds
of a South American species are said to be as much as eighteen

IDE.

Ss

THE MOUNTAIN'S

ZONE ALONG

HE

an

FERNS OF THE RAIN-FOREST ol

meters, but this statement may be an exaggeration. The rachis
bearing the leaflets may branch as much as six or seven times.
Upon the under surface of these leaflets are borne the repro-
ductive bodies, or sori. In Cyathea these are tiny smooth brown
spheres within which are the numerous sporangia containing
spores. In Hemitelia the sorus is cup-shaped, more than filled
with sporangia. In Dicksonia it consists of two valves operat-
ing on a hinge. In Alsophila there is no covering for the spo-
rangia which are simply grouped together in spherical clusters.

The young leaves are rolled in the bud in the form of a
watch-spring, which is sometimes several inches in diameter.
The inner coils are almost completely veiled from view by the
chocolate-colored hair-like ramentum. The leaf gradually un-
rolls and each of the secondary branches is likewise seen to be
coiled. Thus there comes to be a coil on the end of the main
rachis and on each of its lateral branches. The growing tissue
is within this coil and from it all parts of the leaf are produced.
‘The strengthening tissue is the last to appear and, consequently,
the coil hangs pendant from the tips of the leaf, giving the
whole a drooping, wilted appearance. During the unrolling of
the leaf the rachis is almost vertical, but as it grows older it
bends more and more toward the horizontal. When this posi-
tion is reached in most species the spores are shed, and then the
leaf continues to bend downward, finally dropping off. This
procedure is very similar to palm leaves, though the latter have
no spores, and the leaves are formed singly. In the tree-fern
there is a rosette of four or more passing through the series of
changes simultaneously, and followed somewhat later by another
set. Sometimes two or three sets may be seen in different
stages at the same time.

It is a beautiful sight to behold, from the hillside above,
these huge crowns with their delicate lacelike leaves, the leaflets
all turgid and in a single plane. But the master picture is for
him who looks, not earthward, but heavenward. As you walk
through the jungle your eyes glance upward and behold a won-
derful vision, a symmetrical silhouette of the enormous rosette
against the soft background of the clouded sky. The fronds
radiating from the apex of the stem like the points of a star
present a distinctly artistic pattern. Go to the art institutes
and museums of the world, you can not match this. This was
modeled by a sculptor whose touch is infinitely more delicate
than the clumsy fingers of the most skilled of human artists.
Silently you marvel at the splendor, and with Browning,

Look through Nature, up to Nature’s God

oo
bo

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE DEVELOPMENT OF CONCEPTIONS OF
PHOTOSYNTHESIS SINCE INGEN-HOUSZ

By H. A. SPOEHR

DESERT LABORATORY, TUCSON, ARIZONA

HE various functions of a plant are so closely interdepend-
| ent that it is impossible to study rationally any one
activity without taking into consideration a number of others.
It is constantly becoming more evident that imbibition, metab-
olism, growth, photosynthesis and transpiration are to a greater
or less extent all interrelated, a study of the one requiring a
knowledge of all the others. The physiological arrangements
in vegetable organs are not obvious to the eye, they can be as-
certained only by the application of a variety of methods, ob-
servational and experimental. These methods make use of a
great number of different physical and chemical principles, the
nature of which have been more or less definitely established,
and in terms of which we now endeavor to interpret the actions
of living things. The correlation of physical and chemical
actions is of itself a difficult task, but when such actions have
their seat of activity in living things, the task becomes tre-
mendously difficult. Physiology is a great deal more than ap-
plied physics and chemistry. We must, however, rely upon
these disciplines in order to form conceptions of the various
vital phenomena, as operations of known causes. Thus these
sciences have given us a vocabulary, while the true foundation
of physiology will always be the direct observation of vital
phenomena. The fundamental principles of the process of the
utilization of the carbon dioxid of the air by the chlorophyllous
leaf through the action of light, were established with almost
no aid frem physics and chemistry. Such an understanding of
the phenomenon as we now possess has been possible only
through the application of various physical and chemical facts.
But photosynthesis is an exceedingly complex process, involving
many factors and agents, all of which must be placed in proper
relationship before a complete understanding can be hoped for.

It is not my purpose here to enter upon an elaborate his-
torical discussion of the development of the ideas and theories
relative to this subject. This is in itself a most fascinating and
almost endless study, revealing often the most grotesque and

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 30

fanciful speculations of which the human mind has been ¢a-
pable. As in the history of every science, the carefully ex-
ecuted and exactly recorded experiments stand out as bright
beacons to guide the workers in later generations. In no other
way, perhaps, is the importance of reasoning only from careful
experimentation and observation in order to gain light on the
phenomena of nature brought home to one so clearly as by pe-
rusing the immensely prolix and speculative writings of most of
the earlier workers. However, this fault is not entirely confined
to our ancestors. In connecting the name of Ingen-Housz with
the beginning of the development of photosynthesis, I do not
mean to give all honor to one man. He stands as the represen-
tative of a group of highly-gifted investigators of a certain
period and as is the case in all questions of this nature, each
contributed a valuable portion to the whole. I purposely avoid
discussion of the unfortunate and prolonged polemics which oc-
curred at this time, a time-consuming study not altogether con-
ducive to hero worship. However, from a plant physiological
viewpoint and in the light of our present knowledge, the name
of Ingen-Housz does stand out above his contemporaries as
grasping the essentials of the cosmical function of plants. His
little book of about 150 pages, “‘ Experiments upon Vegetables,”
published 140 years ago, is one of the great classics of exper-
imental plant physiology.

What then, briefly, was the status of the subject as found by
Ingen-Housz and his contemporaries? Practically all of the
work prior to this time was guided by the Aristotelian dictum
that plants derive their nutrition from the soil. Against this
mass of incongruous speculation there stand a few beautiful
and classical observations. The great iatrochemist, van Hel-
mont, endowed with extraordinary clearness of perception, de-
nied the Aristotelian doctrine of the composition of organic
matter and considered water the chief constituent thereof. His
classical experiment is probably well known to all. In a pot he
placed 200 pounds of thoroughly desiccated soil and planted
therein a willow twig weighing 5 pounds. This was protected
from dust and watered daily with rain-water. After five years
the plant had enlarged greatly, and increased in weight by 164
pounds, while the earth, after desiccation, showed a loss of only
2 ounces. And almost three hundred years later Liebig was still
fighting the humus theory of nutrition!

Probably the first to express the idea that the leaves are the
organs which produce the substances necessary for the develop-

VOL. Ix.—3

34 THE SCIENTIFIC MONT'HLY

ment of the plant was the Italian, Malphigi, in the seventeenth
century. He considered the chief function of the leaves to be
the digestion of the nutrient sap rising from the roots. This
process of digestion in the leaves was considered essential for
the development of the plant, as was shown by the deleterious
effect of removing the cotyledons (which he regarded as true
leaves). He noticed, furthermore, that in the leaves are open-
ings, “which,” he says, “pour out either air or moisture,”
though it is quite evident that Malphigi did not recognize the
other function of the stomata, namely, the absorption of gases.
Grew in 1676 also pointed out the existence of stomata.

In considering the work on photosynthesis of this time, it
must be borne in mind that the most confused and contradictory
opinions prevailed as to the composition of the atmosphere. It
is difficult to imagine the chaos which existed on a subject which
now seems to us so simple. All the more remarkable are the ob-
servations of that brilliant investigator, Stephen Hales. He
concluded that plants draw some part of their nourishment
through their leaves from the atmosphere, and he was also the
first to suggest the influence of light. A contemporary of New-
ton, Hales regarded light as a substance and asks “may not
light which makes its way into the outer surfaces of leaves and
flowers contribute much to the refining of substances in the
plant?”

And finally there may be mentioned also the observations
of Bonnet, who was the first to record the evolution of gas from
submerged illuminated leaves, but he was not able to interpret
properly his observations.

Priestley had noticed that plants confined in an atmosphere
rich in fixed air (carbon dioxid) produced in the course of some
time large quantities of dephlogisticated air (oxygen). Priest-
ley explained the phenomena as caused by the growth of the
plant and elaborated his discovery in relation to the cosmical
function of vegetation. Schelle, working in Sweden, who had
discovered oxygen simultaneously with Priestley, reported quite
the opposite results; his plants produced fixed air (carbon di-
oxid) and he challenged the correctness of Priestley’s results.
On repeating his investigations, Priestley himself became con-
fused through the irregular outcome of his experiments, look-
ing always simply to the growth of the plant, and finally prac-
tically refuted his original statement.

Jean Ingen-Housz, an eminent physician, interested pri-
marily in the influence of foul and pure air on the health of
man, became enthused by the reports of the influence of oxygen

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 35

on living things. Schelle had shown that atmospheric air was
composed of about! two parts of nitrogen, one part of oxygen
and a small quantity of carbon dioxid. But the latter gas was
also considered an element, though it was known that it was
exhaled by animals, as was also its physiological property that
it would not support life. Ingen-Housz was started on his in-
vestigations by Priestley’s announcement that growing plants
produce oxygen. He was, however, much more fortunate than
Priestley in his experimentation. He soon saw that the mere
growth of a plant had nothing to do with the purification of the
air. His experiments are a masterpiece of manipulation and
self-criticism. Step by step he approached the correct interpre-
tation. It was the effect of the sunlight on the plant which pro-
duced the oxygen and this was due to the light, not the heat,
which the sun radiates; and only in the light did the action take
place, while the green leaves only were capable of this action.
The carbon dioxid came from the atmosphere and the oxygen
escaped through the stomata. High concentrations of CO, were
toxic to the plant, and in the dark or even in the shade, not oxy-
gen, but CO, was evolved. The contradictory results of Priest-
ley and of Schelle were explained. Thus did Ingen-Housz grasp
the very fundamentals of the process.

In 1784 Lavoisier established the composition of carbon
dioxid and the nature of combustion. At this time the battle of
opinions regarding these processes was at its height, and the
value of Lavoisier’s discovery was unheeded even by Ingen-
Housz. But in his second publication he saw the matter clearly.
The source of the oxygen was the carbon dioxid, the combustible
matter of the plant was thus formed, van Helmont’s experiment
was explained, and the organism was seen to live by the burn-
ing of the material which it had itself formed. But there were
also contributions from other workers; none of them, however,
had the same clarity of vision and could distinguish between the
two functions proceeding simultaneously, photosynthesis and
respiration, nor made use of the modern conception of the com-
position of carbon dioxid. Sénébier executed extensive exper-
iments and published voluminous elaborations. He showed how
photosynthesis was affected by temperature, and by means of
his well-known colored bell jars ascribed the chief action to the
red rays of the spectrum. But the old Aristotelian dictum per-
sisted; the roots were supposed to supply the leaves with solu-

1 Black, Joseph, “ Lectures on the Elements of Chemistry,” 1st Am. ed.
from last London ed., 1806, 2: 344.

36 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tions of carbon dioxid. This was not definitely eradicated until
the work of Moll and of Bousingault with pure water cultures.

As in all questions of this nature, so here it is also almost
impossible to definitely establish who was the first to observe
the utilization of carbon dioxid by the plant. Technically the
honor probably belongs to Henry and Persival, though our
present knowledge undoubtedly comes directly from Ingen-
Housz and Sénébier. Although Ingen-Housz clearly described
the phenomenon of CO, evolution both aerobically and anae-
robically, it is surprising how long the erroneous conceptions
regarding these processes persisted.

And finally to this period belongs the work of de Saussure.
Though a contemporary of Ingen-Housz, Sénébier and Priest-
ley, de Saussure attacked the problem a few years later. Per-
haps nowhere else is there such a clear example of the tre-
mendous change which had been wrought by the new chemistry
of Lavoisier. From the style of thought and presentation, there
might be a century between de Saussure and his contemporaries
who had worked on this problem. De Saussure’s conceptions of
the composition of air, the nature of burning and the compo-
sition of water were clear and based upon definite experimenta-
tion. He worked entirely quantitatively; he asked a certain
question and got a definite answer, and thus he established the
quantitative relations of the phenomena which Ingen-Housz,
Priestley, Sénébier and a few others had described, besides sev-
eral new discoveries, more especially the rdle which water plays
in the process of photosynthesis. De Saussure spoke a new
language and followed a new system of thought. In fact, his
work naturally would mark the beginning of a new era. But
alas, it also marks the beginning of a rapid decline, both in in-
vestigation and in the presentation of existing knowledge on
the whole subject of plant nutrition. A perusal of the text-
books as they appeared from about 1815, with a very few ex-
ceptions, reveal such unpardonable inaccuracy, indifference and
simple ignorance as to be quite incomprehensible in view of
the enormous importance of this phenomenon to human wel-
fare. Most of the modern texts of plant physiology and physio-
logical chemistry by no means escape this criticism. The beau-
tiful experiments of the men just referred to were either
forgotten or directly misinterpreted. The works of Dutrochet,
Sachs and Pfeffer may be cited as the few great exceptions.

Aside from the discovery of certain details of the process of
photosynthesis regarding the easily detectable produets and the
influence of certain exterior factors, the status of our knowl-
edge is practically as de Saussure left it over 100 years ago!

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 37

What then are the causes of this lamentable stagnation, this
apparent indifference to a branch of science which deals with
a phenomenon upon which our very existence depends? It is
not, I believe, to any one cause or condition that the situation
can be attributed. We are not guilty of following an erroneous
doctrine or system of thought. But the difficulty rather lies in
the great complexity of the subjeet itself.

Among the botanists of the time the discoveries of Ingen-
Housz and his contemporaries found no interest. This was at
the time when Linné determined the course of botanical thought.
There was at the time no such discipline as plant physiology;
Hales, Ingen-Housz, Priestley, Sénébier, de Saussure were not
botanists, but physicists and chemists. Here is an example of
the deplorable results arising from the unfortunate sharp divi-
sion of the various fields of science. Botany was not developing
a symmetrical structure, but a highly lopsided one with atten-
tion restricted to the description and classification of plants.
Cuvier, the great academician, one of the most illustrious men
of that glorious age when France was truly the home of science,
who did so much for botany, especially for its wide study and
culture, utterly neglected the functional and nutritional phase.
Nor did Humboldt, in spite of his unusual versatility and enor-
mous influence in the world of science, affect the course of this
subject beyond writing an introduction to the German trans-
lation of Ingen-Housz’s work. The writings of Schleiden and
of Liebig certainly did much to improve the conceptions of
nutritional science of the day, but their efforts were entirely
critical and not experimental, hence no real contributions re-
sulted from their efforts; while such men as Mohl, Nageli, Hof-
meister and Darwin were also following other lines of thought.
The experiments of Bousingault do stand out clearly at this
period. He finally demonstrated with his method of water cul-
ture the true source of carbon for the plant, as well as the fact
that atmospheric nitrogen is not directly taken up by the plant.

Sachs through his studies of chlorophyll function awoke new
interest in the subject. His work on the formation of starch, as
well as that of Bohm on the effect of sugars on starch forma-
tion, has led to an extended elaboration of this phase of the
subject. And finally Wm. Draper of New York conducted ex-
tensive investigations on the effect of different portions of the
spectrum on the evolution of oxygen, the results of whose work
have been verified and extended by the studies of Pfeffer. Most
of the botanical contributions of the last thirty years have been
largely confined to detailed studies along the courses outlined by
these workers. It is not detracting from their value to say that

38 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

no new vistas have been opened nor original hypotheses for-
mulated.

During the period just reviewed, all branches of science ex-
perienced development and revolution beyond all precedent in
the history of thought. A discovery in one domain of science
often exerted great influence over its allied or even distantly
related sciences. We need but recall how the Newtonian gravi-
tation formula affected not only astronomy and physics, but
chemistry and physiology. During this time such fundamental
conceptions as the conservation of energy, the undulatory
theory of light, spectrum analysis, entropy and the primary
laws of photochemical action were formulated, all of the most
direct importance to the problem of photosynthesis. These
great discoveries have even now found little application to our
subject.

The most important aspect of the problem of photosynthesis
is probably the energy relation. By virtue of this photochem-
ical action we are kept alive, we derive all of our food, we keep
warm, travel, and run our industries, by the use of fossil en-
ergy, coal. It is this question of energetics which in spite of
some of the excellent attempts which have been made, has
hardly been touched, and lies at the very center of the problem
at least from a humanitarian viewpoint. As Boltzman pointed
out in his classical paper on the second law of thermodynamics,
the struggle for existence is essentially not a fight for the raw
materials, which are abundant in earth, sky and sea, nor for the
energies as such, but for the potential energies as in coal, sugar
and meat.

It would seem that the plant itself is not very efficient in the
utilization of this energy, and certainly our methods of deter-
mining the values have been anything but satisfactory. This is
largely due to the number of variable factors entering into the
experiment and calculation. The determinations of Puriewitsch
may serve as a good example. The light was measured by
means of a bolometer, and the amount of photosynthate or ma-
terial synthesized was determined by the half-leaf method. The
energy of this material was determined from the heat of com-
bustion.

7 Before Isolation After Isolation

Arcavofcbalé eat jaiis di. itty eis 6 aleieteie’s 316.6 sq. cm. 316.8
Dry weieht Or mali leat. oo) se bwie seein s 1.2494 g. 1.3952
Dry (WEIS DER AG. CM ele aie sais) oie plain ous 0.0039 0.0044
Heat of combustion of 1 g. dry weight.. .43800.21 g. cal. 4313.46 g. cal.
Heat of combustion per sq. cm. ......... 16.770 18.978
Increase of heat of combustion after in-

SolationsMeerrea: CNL. (0. Liesiyee ioe lessee 2.208 g. cal.
Total energy fall on leaf............... 861.03 g. eal.

Energy used in assimilation...........-. 0.6 per cent.

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 39

The values for the energy utilized vary greatly, from 0.6
per cent. to 5.0 per cent. with the same and different kinds of
plants. One of the great difficulties has been that we do not yet
know with what sort of system we are dealing. It is quite clear
that it is not one simple chemical reaction, but a series into
which various factors enter, and in some of which light plays
the leading role. So that as the results indicate, these values
are the merest approximations. In fact, the old question how
does light act in effecting the reduction of carbon dioxid and
water, seems almost as far from solution as ever. It is still an
open question whether we are dealing with a so-called photo-
catalytic action in which light only accelerates an irreversible
process, in which case we cannot regard the energy of light as
being stored in the transformed substance, or whether it is a
true photochemical action. One great difficulty here has been
that the physicists themselves have not been unanimous in ac-
cepting the theoretical principles of radiant energy and its re-
lation to chemical action.

Recent conceptions of the nature of light and of chemical
forces ought to find application to the processes involved in
photosynthesis. It seems highly probable that the forces of
chemical affinity are electrical in character, and matter may be
regarded as a complex structure of small particles, the atoms,
together with very much smaller particles called electrons. The
number of electrons which accompany an atom to a large meas-
ure determine its chemical properties; valency under this con-
ception depends upon the relative ability of the atoms to eject
or attract electrons, and the chemical effects produced by light
are due to the emission of electrons from some of the atoms of
the illuminated substance. Each electron always has a negative
charge of electricity and is therefore attracted towards all pos-
itive charges. Under certain conditions some substances lose
electrons and acquire a positive charge. Thus there are a num-
ber of metals which when exposed to the rays of ultra-violet
light take on a positive charge, and this has been traced to the
emission of the negative electrons from the illuminated surface.
The phenomenon is known as the photoelectric effect, and has
been observed in a large number of substances, including a
variety of dyes. There is considerable evidence for believing
that the valency electrons which are the chemical bonds in mole-
cules, are identical with the photoelectric electrons which can
be liberated by the action of light. From this point of view, a
photochemical change and a photoelectric change are of the
same character, consisting primarily in the loss or displacement
of an electron through the absorption of energy from a light

40 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

wave. It is not possible here to enter upon a discussion of the
photochemical laws, but it seems quite certain that the first
stage in any photochemical reaction consists essentially in either
the partial or complete separation of negative electrons which
are either emitted or attach themselves to other chemical groups
or atoms. There takes place thus a rearrangement of the en-
ergy distribution in the system which, of course, involves chem-
ical changes.

The phenomena of oxidation and reduction may be inter-
preted upon the same basis. Thus, for example, the oxidation
of ferrous sulphate with bromine water may be represented:

2Fe + 2S0, + Br, > 2Fe + 280, + 2Br.

The ferrous salt is “ oxidized” to a ferric salt and the bromine
“reduced” to a bromine ion. It will be noticed that the “ ox-
idation” (I purposely retain the old terminology) involves the
passage of a positive charge to the ferrous ion, the bromine
being the oxidizing agent, or the ferrous salt the reducing
agent. There cannot be oxidation without corresponding re-
duction, and reduction consists essentially in the loss of a neg-
ative charge. Oxygen acts as an oxidizing agent because it has
a great tendency to take away a negative charge from other
substances and go over into electronegative oxygen of a com-
pound, usually water. In photosynthesis the process is quite
the reverse. If we assume that the action is empirically:

XCO, + XH,0O > (CH,O),+ XO.,,

water is oxidized and CO, is reduced presumably to carbohy-
drates and the negative charges are taken up by the carbon
compounds. Thus photosynthesis must be accompanied by de-
cided electrical disturbances and of a nature which are in a
sense the reverse of those taking place in the oxidation of food
material. This furnishes us with a point of attack and possible
basis for the explanation of the electrical disturbances charac-
teristic of living things. As yet no application has been made
of these principles, though it is noteworthy that the atmosphere
surrounding a leaf is ionized and Waller has described certain
electrical disturbances in the leaf. These are apparently asso-
ciated with the photosynthetic activity, for the action ceases on
the removal of CO,, and is not brought about by light which
has been filtered through a green leaf.

McClelland and Fitzgerald have recently observed that

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 41

green leaves in the light of an aluminium arc exhibit a decided
photoelectric discharge, as do also aqueous solutions of chloro-
phyll. I have tried to detect such an effect by the use of sun-
light, but have never succeeded. It would seem that the elec-
trons are emitted only under special conditions, and ordinarily
are probably attached to the escaping oxygen or water vapor.

The application of physical conceptions and methods of ex-
perimentation as yet have not been applied to the study of photo-
synthesis with any high degree of success in penetrating to a
clearer view of the process. This to a large measure has been
due to the fact that our knowledge of the chemistry of the proc-
ess has been so very fragmentary. The physical investigations
have indicated that the process is apparently not a simple one,
but dependent upon a number of variable factors. Physics em-
ploys essentially quantitative or mathematical forms of expres-
sion. But before quantitative terms can find expression, it is
essential that at least a certain amount of qualitative knowl-
edge is existent. We must know, at least, whether a proposi-
tion is affirmative or negative; some elements of the hypothesis
must be established. Thus it was possible for de Saussure to
apply quantitative methods to the discoveries of Ingen-Housz
and Sénébier, but our qualitative knowledge has not progressed
much beyond the discoveries of these men. Sachs elaborated
the observations of Mohl on the starch grains and thereby in-
troduced the subject of sugar chemistry into the process. It
became then distinctly a chemical problem.

The course which the development of chemistry took was
influenced by a number of factors. It is evident that science
has progressed essentially by the efforts of a relatively few in-
dividual thinkers who set the minds of many working in cer-
tain directions, and that science, like social and political institu-
tions, is not above the influence of fashions which have been
followed by the majority, and often not altogether to the ad-
vantage of the broad development of knowledge. At the time
of Liebig organic chemistry was devoted to the study of the
chemistry of living things. But with the discovery of the con-
stantly increasing number of carbon compounds and under the
leadership of men like Victor Meyer, Kekulé, Hofmann and
Baeyer, the primary interest was shifted to theoretical con-
siderations of constitution and structure. Combined with this,
the effect of the lure of the commercial application of synthetic
products and the development of new processes, forced the study
of chemistry of the phenomena of nature into second place.
Physiological chemistry with relatively few disciples was de-

42 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

voted largely to animal investigation. And it is only within
rather recent times that there has been a return to what might
be termed general physiological chemistry with the plant studies
in the decided minority.

Probably as a result of this state of affairs on the educa-
tional system, the contributions of the chemists to the problem
of photosynthesis have not been of the thorough and profound
nature which the subject demands. Most of the suggestions of
the chemists concerning the course of the process have been
purely hypothetical and speculative, exhibiting the most lam-
entable ignorance of the fundamental character of the process,
and often with total disregard of the structure of the chlo-
rophyllous cell and the properties of living matter. It is not |
surprising, therefore, that many botanists paid little attention
to these efforts and few cooperative efforts were undertaken.

From the chemical viewpoint, the salient fact regarding the
process of photosynthesis is that carbohydrates are the first
products which accumulate in sufficient quantity for detection.
It is by no means established in what manner these substances
are formed, but as the formation of sugars has been found to
accompany the process almost universally and the course of
accumulation has been extensively studied, they have come to
be regarded as the first visible products. The sugars then stand
-in the very center of the food economy of plants.

Before discussing the subject of the sugars themselves let
us consider very briefly the manner in which these are supposed
to be formed in the chlorophyllous cell. This portion of the
problem has not advanced beyond the purely hypothetical stage,
although it is very frequently treated as though the principle
had been firmly established. The theory which has received the
greatest recognition, and, it would seem, almost universal ac-
ceptance, is the formaldehyde theory. This hypothesis was for-
mulated by Baeyer as a mere suggestion. During the fifty years
since its appearance, this suggestion has become almost an
axiom. It might be desirable, therefore, to examine briefly the
evidence upon which this theory rests in order to determine
whether its widespread acceptance is warranted by exper-
imental proof.

In 1861 Butlerow had discovered that formaldehyde, in
aqueous alkaline solution, condenses to an optically inactive
syrup, possessing some of the properties of hexose sugars.
Baeyer considered formaldehyde in aqueous solution to be
CH.,(OH)., and the Butlerow condensation as simply one of
water loss and condensation of six CH,(OH), molecules.

6CH, (OH), —6H,O — COH: (C (OH) H)4-.CH,OH.

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 43

Baeyer then suggested that this may be the way in which
grape sugar is formed in the plant. The idea of the similarity
of chlorophyll and hemoglobin was prevalent at the time; it
seemed, therefore, likely that chlorophyll should also fix CO.
The sunlight splits the CO, into CO and O, the oxygen escapes,
and the carbon monoxide, held by the chlorophyll, is reduced to
formaldehyde, CO-+ H,—COH., which is then condensed to
sugar. This is the substance of the Baeyer hypothesis, formu-
lated without the support of experimental evidence. It was pro-
posed as a possibility and received no further attention in the
writings of its founder.

The fact which more than any other gave strength to this
theory, and which is the underlying principle of the whole idea,
was the discovery of Butlerow. This discovery was elaborated
by O. Loew, who gave the name formose to the sugar mixture,
and especially by Emil Fischer, who prepared therefrom some
of the sugars found in nature.

The hypothesis has to a great extent directed the course of
investigation of the chemical aspect of photosynthesis. The ex-
periments have followed three different lines of argument:

(1) The reduction of carbon dioxid to formaldehyde by
various chemical and photochemical means. (2) The detection
of formaldehyde in illuminated green leaves. (3) The feeding
of plants with formaldehyde as the only source of carbon.

All of these have yielded direct positive results, although it
is impossible to give a description of the very numerous ex-
periments. The main points at issue are, however, whether we
are justified in applying the results of experiments carried out
in vitro or under other abnormal conditions, to the living plant,
and whether the conditions in the experiments simulate suf-
ficiently those existent in the chlorophyllous cell to permit of
valid deductions. In spite of the very numerous contributions
which have been made to this special subject, a critical study
of all the facts leads to the conclusion that it will require a great
deal more experimental substantiation before this theory can
serve as the basis for an explanation of the mode of sugar manu-
facture in the leaf.

Although Sachs had identified the formation of starch in the
chloroplasts with the photosynthetic activity, it was later recog-
nized by Meyer that many leaves never form starch. In the
latter case there is an accumulation of cane sugar. Boehm then
found that in either kind of leaf there was an accumulation of
starch or sugar when the leaves were placed on solutions of glu-
cose or fructose. The question has then naturally arisen as to

44 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

what is the first sugar formed in photosynthesis. This is, of
course, an immensely important problem, as its solution would
throw much light on the chemics of the photosynthetic process.
As yet no definite solution has been gained, and the results are
by no means concordant. The conclusions have been drawn
largely from a consideration of the variation in amount of dif-
ferent sugars and from microchemical tests. The latter can
not be considered sufficiently accurate to differentiate positively
between various sugars. The following are the results of
Brown and Morris with the garden Nasturtium, and serve as
the best illustration. The values represent percentages of the
dry weight.

Picked 5 A. M.
Carbohydrate Picked and Dried Kept Insolated in Picked and Dried
“i | 5 A.M. Water Until 5 P. M. 5 A.M.
Starchivccmre cise demic: see's 1-23 3.91 4.59
SUCTOSC ee cee etree lone ca sel 4.65 8.85 3.86
GLICGSe sa ne Wectt Boe eGeotedals se 0.97 1.20 0.00
BTUCtOSOR A re een aoe a ere 2.99 6.44 0.39
Mialtose Si) ite ciepaa niet sere esuis'| 1.18 0.69 5.33
PP OLA SUPATY foiscicrtee deo pied cis 9.69 17.18 9.58
Leaves Kept in
Picked and Dried | Water in Dark for
Carbohydrate at Once 24 Hours After
Picking
SUG RG YS GOT a Cm ee a te Ra ee oA wea 3.69 2.98
SUerOSO ie es eh cee See oke cee eb sels d, 0 9.98 3.49
(SECO es 6 bear O10 8 DIRS 6 HE Cre AC TR Sate ee Ee 0.00 0.58
RTaT CLOSE te te porel ohare eeke As ie ele eo eae woe estes fesse’ 1.41 3.46
IVEALE ORG a ere hers is ere en Se ea eter trace Tats icrev eles 2.25 1.86
ROCA SUL ALS Soe cre ne ee ehs ea ore Paterno ot tcictevte 13.64 9.39

From these results Brown and Morris conclude that cane
sugar is the first sugar formed in the leaf, and that it is a tem-
porary reserve material which accumulates during active photo-
synthesis. When the cane sugar reaches a certain concentra-
tion, an excess is converted into starch. Prior to translocation,
the cane sugar is inverted into glucose and fructose. The fact
that leaves which are photosynthetically active all day contain
no glucose or fructose is used by Brown and Morris as an argu-
ment that these can not be the first sugars formed. In the cut
leaf insolated in water, translocation has presumably been
stopped, and they point out that cane sugar and starch both in-
crease greatly, but glucose very little. Fructose, the other
hexose, it should be noted, however, increases decidedly.

One factor which has been overlooked in these considera-
tions is the transformation of the various groups of sugars quite
independent of the process of photosynthesis. This mutual

PHOTOSYNTHESIS 45

transformation is of the nature of a complex equilibrium with
the monosaccharides as one extreme, and starch as the other,
controlled, in all probability, by enzyme action. This equilib-
rium is affected by various influences, more particularly by the
water content of the system and temperature. It is evident
then that the amount, or proportion to the total of certain sugars
present in the leaf after insolation, can not be taken as an indi-
cation of the rate at which these sugars are formed in the photo-
synthetic process, for under varying conditions of water con-
tent and temperature, such as occur in a leaf in the sunlight,
there is a consequent shifting of the carbohydrate equilibrium,
resulting in the accumulation of one or the removal of another
group of sugars according to circumstances. Therefore, in a
study of the first sugar formed in photosynthesis, these condi-
tions (water content and temperature) either must be kept con-
stant or, what is more feasible, the equilibrium under the par-
ticular circumstances must be established before any conclu-
sions can be drawn as to the immediate source of any particular
sugar.

The fleshy joints of some of the cacti have offered splendid
material for studies of transformation of the sugars. These
plants are capable of large variation in their water content, the
joints can be removed from the plants and subjected to a variety
of conditions without injury. Thus two sets of joints were kept
at different temperatures in the dark for twenty days and then
analyzed. The values are percentages of the dry material.

28° C 10-15° C
PU NCEA 250 a0) a. en) apcl)n'ep sie am, 8, so sic ie 33.0 33.6
SEPT RTAOMSUE (oc a, o < ‘sie aks! vi a sins) 9,8 «(3 5.72 6.21
Total polysaccharides ............ 5.28 5.59
Hexoses and disaccarides......... 0.40 0.60
Mowal hexose: sugars.) ...22.....% 2.17 2.38
BRIARECRATIORRs | Oh 0... 6) 356) oisisv ota stars siece 0.26 0.32
OES? MA oe ee ee 0.16 0.27
OH 913 .900
Total sugars
Hexoses

Hexose polysaccharides *********"" OS =o
peeeeees disecliarides, 069 0966

Total sugars

It is evident then that in general a low temperature tends
to shift the equilibrium in the direction of the simpler sugars.

Similar relations hold for the effect of the water content.
The table below gives the results of two sets of joints, one set
{A) kept dry, the other (B) given water:

46 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A B

DIP OLS hte cesta ait ia) +d inliste foresee 22.80 17.70
ROCA FEUPATS 1. oe laiechartievclovale o75 Wiehe at 18.84 18.58
Total polysaccharides ............ 16.21 15.77
Hexoses and disaccharides......... .56 81
EGERL MCSOROIBUICATS oc) 5 5 Sigs) s asters 8.43 7.81
PNISACCHATIGES Aspire oe ovccohelaidieltos .30 .06
TEES GRESW 5 SOR GCG COC Ie eee Ie Lear .26 45
Total polysaccharides

REL eae .861 .849

Hexose

Feewosaipelasactiniides vi65, 32" 23 .032 .063
Hexoses and disaccharides 0297 0436

Total sugars

Thus the water content of a leaf decidedly affects the nature
of the sugars, and in such a manner that decreasing water con-
tent shifts the equilibrium in the direction of the more complex
or more condensed sugars, while ample water brings about in-
version or the formation of the simpler sugars. In the pentose
series the action is of the same nature. It is a noteworthy fact
that the water content does not seem to affect the rate of res-
piration as measured by CO, evolution.

Unfortunately in the results of Brown and Morris and the
other workers who have investigated the problem of the first
sugar, not sufficient data are given regarding leaf temperatures
and water content. These factors when considered in the light
of the results just given would materially affect the interpreta-
tion of the analyses.

The examples given here illustrate to some degree the com-
plexity of the problem of photosynthesis. The enormous im-
portance of this phenomenon to human welfare needs no elab-
oration. Progress undoubtedly lies in the fortunate coopera-
tion and application of the methods and concepts of various
branches of science; botany, physiology, chemistry and physics.
The dangers lie in the over-application of physical and chem-
ical theories based on restricted observation and acquaintance
with the phenomenon itself.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 47

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM IN THE WAR

BEING SOME REFLECTIONS UPON THE RELATION OF
AN ORGANISM TO ITS ENVIRONMENT

By Professor F. H. PIKE
THE DEPARTMENT OF PHYSIOLOGY OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

DMIRAL SIR JOHN JELLICOE, in the dark months of
A the past year, advised his countrymen to look at a map,
and, furthermore, to look at a large map if they wished to get a
true perspective of the war. I would like to present a picture
for inspection, and, furthermore, I would like to present a large
picture, as I believe that in a large picture we may find comfort.
In a large picture, some of the lines may be blurred and indis-
tinct when examined microscopically, but the perspective is
better. And when once we get a perspective, we may elaborate
detailed portions of the picture to the limit of microscopic vision.
The picture, to be sure, is, in part, drawn after the events have
occurred, and to this extent now represents afterthought rather
than forethought. But if I mistake not, some of the conditions
which have given rise to trouble in the past will greatly out-
last the war, and a recognition of the sources of evil in the past
may help us in avoiding, or in coping with, the sources of evil in
the future. Assuredly, man’s mind is in need of comfort, and
while one does not ordinarily look to the biologist for comfort in
times of adversity or trial, I hope to be more successful than the
officious gentlemen who called on Job.

Some, like Mr. Britling’s son Hugh, have tired of the war at
times and wished for stories of gods and heroes so that they
might forget for the moment the horrors of the conflict. I have
at times been one of them. But not until the news of the sign-
ing of the armistice arrived was I able to sit down and read
with untroubled mind anything that did not have some more or
less close connection with the war and the part which I was
trying to fulfil in it. For those who may have felt as I did at
times, but who still look forward with some anxiety to the
formulation of the peace terms and the statement of the means
adopted for curbing some of the vanities of human ambition for
the future, I wish to show that the study of the effect of war and
war conditions upon man is a biological study of the effects of

48 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the environment upon organisms and that if the essential rela-
tions of biology to the life of man had been fully recognized
this war might not have come. I wish to present a statement
that I have worked out in my own mind in the terms of my
chosen science, physiology. To be sure we are dealing with one
species of organisms and not with organisms in general; and
the environment bears the trade mark, ‘ Made in Germany.”
But biology is essentially an inductive science, or group of
closely related sciences, rather than a deductive science, and
inferences drawn from a study of one group of organisms will
fit somewhere in the general scheme of inductive thought when
it is finally worked out. I will first map out the general field of
physiology as it has been developed up to the present, and then
show how the information now available may be applied to
some of the problems of the war.

THE PROGRESS IN PHYSIOLOGY IN THE PAST CENTURY

The Place of Physiology in Scientific Thought.—For the
benefit of those who may vaguely wonder, as some of my friends
have wondered at times, what physiology has to offer to general
biological thought or to scientific thought as a whole, a brief
statement of the progress of physiology during the past cen-
tury may not be out of place. Merz‘ speaks of the conflict early
in the past century between vitalism and the mechanistic con-
ception of life processes as one of the fundamental phases in
the development of physiology, and attributes a large share in
the founding of physiology on the mechanistic basis to Johannes
Miiller. Merz quotes Emil Du Bois Reymond? as follows:

The modern physiological school with Schwann at its head, has drawn
the conclusions for which Miiller had furnished the premises. It has
herein been essentially aided by three achievements which Miiller wit-
nessed at an age when deeply-seated convictions are not easily abandoned.
I mean first of all, Schleiden and Schwann’s discovery, that bodies of both
animals and plants are composed of structures which develop independ-
ently, though according to a common principle. This conception dispelled
from the region of plant-life the idea of a governing entelechy, as Miiller
conceived it, and pointed from afar to the possibility of an explanation of
these processes by means of the general properties of matter. I refer,
secondly, to the more intimate knowledge of the action of nerves and
muscles which began with Schwann’s researches, in which he showed how
the force of the muscle changes with its contraction. Investigations
which were carried on with all the resources of modern physics regarding
the phenomena of animal movements, gradually substituted for the mir-

1“ A History of Thought in Europe during the Nineteenth Century,”
I., p. 217, Edinburgh and London, 1903.
2Reden, Vol. II., p. 219.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 49

acles of the “vital forces” a molecular mechanism complicated, indeed,
and likely to baffle our efforts for a long time to come, but intelligible,
nevertheless as a mechanism. The third achievement to which I refer is
the revival among us by Helmholtz and Mayer of the doctrine of the
conservation of force. This cleared up the conception of force in general,
and in particular supplied the key to a knowledge of the change of matter
in plants and animals. By this an insight was gained into the truth that
the power with which we move our limbs (as George Stephenson did those
of his locomotive) is nothing more than sunlight transformed in the organ-
ism of the plant: that the highly oxygenated excrements of the animal
organism produce this force during their combustion, and along with it
the animal warmth, the “ pneuma” of the ancients. In the daylight which
through such knowledge penetrated into the chemical mechanisms of
plants and animals, the pale spectre of a vital force could no more be seen.
Liebig, indeed, who himself stood up so firmly for the chemical origin of
animal heat and motive power, still retains an accompanying vital force.
But this contradiction is probably to be traced to the circumstance that
the celebrated chemist came late, and as it were from the outside, to the
study of the phenomena of life. And even Wohler still believes in a vital
force, he who in his time did more than any one to disturb the vitalistic
hypothesis through his artificial production of urea.

Merz later admits that the French physiologist Vicq-d’Azyr,
who, by the way, was a professor in the Ecole veterinaire
d’Alfort and a neuro-anatomist of considerable ability, had,
earlier than Johannes Miiller, clearly stated the mechanistic
conception of life processes. Merz? quotes from Du Bois Rey-
mond‘ this extract from Vicq-d’Azyr:

Quelqu’ étonnantes qu’elles nous paraissent, ces fonctions (viz., dans
les corps organisés) ne sont-elles pas des effets physiques plus ou moins
composés dont nous devons examiner la nature par tous les moyens que
nous fournissent l’observation et l’expérience, et non leur supposer des
principes sur lesquels l’esprit se repose, et croit avoir tout fait lorsqu’il
lui reste tout a faire.

One may remark in passing that, despite his recognition of
the relation of the cell theory to the Aristotelio-Drieschian con-
ception of an entelechy, Johannes Miiller® still remained much
of a vitalist. So deeply was the vitaliste theory ingrained in

3 Ibid., p. 219.

4Reden, Vol. II., p. 27.

5 Although he himself (Miller) is truly regarded as the last of the
vitalists—for he was a vitalist to the last—his successors were adherents
of what has been very inadequately designated the mechanistic view of
the phenomena of life. Burdon-Sanderson, J. S., Nature, 1893, XLVIII,
p. 466.

Even after the discovery by Wohler in 1828 of the possibility of pro-
ducing synthetically such an organic substance as urea, such a universal
mind as that of Johannes Miiller was still clinging to the belief in the all-
powerful force as the creator and harmonizer of the various mechanisms
of the living body.” Meltzer, S. J., Science, 1904, N. S., XIX., p. 18.

vol 1x.—4.

50 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the minds of physiologists and others that Du Bois Reymond
years afterward remarked that behind such terms as cell auton-
omy there lay concealed the thinly veiled specter of vitalism.

Merz’s statement may appear insufficient to the physiologist,
but I am merely quoting it to show just what impression physi-
ology as a whole has made on the mind of a keen and diligent
student of scientific thought in the nineteenth century. Com-
pared with his statement on morphology, it is meager enough.
One unfamiliar with the great names in physiology, and who
did not look through the index for them would truly get an in-
adequate idea of the influence of physiology upon thought in the
past century. Nor do the references to the physiological units
of Herbert Spencer or to “physiological division of labor”
really carry us much further into the place of physiology in
scientific thought. For Milne-Edwards was an anatomist and
comparative physiologist, and Herbert Spencer a philosopher.
Their conceptions of processes or properties, however valuable
they may have become in biological thought, can scarcely be
claimed as the property of the workers in the technical labora-
tories of physiology. Howell® epitomized the situation by say-
ing: “We must perhaps admit that the philosophical basis of
physiology, its general principles and quantitative laws, have
been borrowed in large part from other departments, and that
the subject has not as yet fully repaid this indebtedness by con-
tributions derived solely from its own resources.” Nor does
one find much mention of the relation of physiology to the other
biological sciences in Verworn’s article “‘ Physiology” in the
Encyclopedia Britannica. But if, as is generally alleged, physi-
ology is one of the biological sciences, it must have some ele-
ments in common with them and hence some relation to the
great questions of biology. It would seem permissible, there-
fore, to add something more on the place of physiology in
scientific thought. We may first review briefly the progress of
physiology, in order to get a background of fact upon which to
base our conclusions, and then search particularly for those
phases of the work which may serve to connect physiology with
the great problems of biology in general. Those who are espe-
cially interested in the development of physiology should read
also Professor Howell’s address and those by Professor Burdon-
Sanderson and Dr. Meltzer to which I have just referred. As
will become apparent from what follows, the particular field
of physiology has been the study of the individual and its
internal conditions.

6“ Problems of Physiology of the Present Time.” Congress of Arts
and Science, Universal Exposition, St. Louis, 1904, Vol. V., p. 1.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 51

THE STUDY OF THE INTERNAL ORGANIZATION OF THE LIVING
ORGANISM

The work in physiology during the past century, and one
should add twenty-five years to cover the beginnings in the
eighteenth century and the continuation in the twentieth, has
been along the lines of the chemical organization and a nervous
organization. I will not enter here into a discussion of the moot
question whether the nervous mechanism may not be at bottom
a chemical mechanism. Assuredly, the nervous mechanism has
some chemical properties, but the methods of investigation of
the two systems are at present sufficiently different in character
to warrant us in retaining the term nervous organization for a
time at least. While investigation of the two systems of organi-
zation has proceeded more or less together, the development of
the knowledge of each may be considered separately. Other
writers might not choose the same facts or the same names that
I have chosen, but I have taken those things which seem adapted
for bringing out the particular points I wish to emphasize.

THE CHEMICAL ORGANIZATION OF THE BODY

Lavoisier, toward the close of the eighteenth century,
showed that the heat production by an animal in a given time
was directly proportional to the amount of carbon dioxide pro-
duced in the same time. This result led to the discussion of the
nature of the chemical processes in living matter. It was gen-
erally admitted that the production of heat in animals was the
result of a process of slow combustion, and the idea of a cata-
lytic agent and of catalytic reactions soon followed. We have
come to recognize more and more clearly that many of the chem-
ical reactions occurring in living matter are of the same general
nature as the “slow” reactions of the laboratory of physical
chemistry.’

The line of investigation started by Lavoisier had other
results. His original experiment in animal calorimetry was re-
peated with greatly improved methods by Regnault and Rieset,
Pettenkoffer and Voigt, Atwater and Benedict and others,
until the original discrepancy of a few per cent. between
Lavoisier’s observed results and the calculated results has been
reduced to a few tenths of one per cent. From these experi-
ments, and van Helmont’s earlier experiment’ on the increase in
weight of a tree, the modern study of metabolism has arisen.
Biologists generally regard metabolism as one of the funda-

7 Blackman, F. F., Nature, 1908, LXXVIII., p. 556.
8 Foster, “ Lectures on the History of Physiology,” 1901, p. 133.

52 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mental properties of living matter. Goodrich’s statement?
in 1912:

The metabolic process in living matter draws in inorganic substance
and force at one end, and parts with it at the other; it is inconceivable
that these should, as it were, pass outside the boundaries of the physico-
chemical world, out of range of the so-called physico-chemical laws, at one
point to reenter them at another,

is a sufficiently close restatement of Vicq-d’Azyr’s conclusion of
more than a century before to justify the correctness of his
physiological vision. That we do not yet know all the trans-
formations of inorganic substance and force in the metabolic
process is true. But to say that such transformations are not
physico-chemical processes, as I have heard it said at various
times, involves a peculiar mental operation which I am at a loss
to understand. One might as well say that, because we can not
explain the transmission of electricity along a wire—and I am
not aware of any such explanation at present which is complete
and wholly free from objection—such transmission is not a
physico-chemical process. If vitalistic properties enter into
metabolism at all, they can not consume more than a few tenths
of one per cent. of the total energy involved in the process. To
the other virtues of vitalism which Du Bois Reymond mentioned
in his own humorous way, we must, therefore, add extreme
economy of operation.

The artificial synthesis of many of the products at one time
supposed to occur in living matter only, beginning with Wohler’s
synthesis of urea in 1828, and extending through a long series
of carbohydrates and even of polypeptids, is another series of
achievements along the line of the chemical organization of the
organism. Through the chemical study of the nature of the
various compounds occurring in living matter, we have been
able to extend our knowledge of the processes of metabolism in
general, and of nutrition in particular.

The doctrine of the conservation of energy led to a new dis-
cussion of the position of life. Balfour Stewart’? compares
living matter to the class of machines whose distinguishing
characteristic is their incalculability. He mentions also that
“ Joule, Carpenter and Mayer were at an early period aware
of the restrictions under which animals were placed by the laws
of energy, and in virtue of which the power of an animal, as far
as energy is concerned, is not creative but directive.”

Physiologists generally have considered this characteristic

9“ The Evolution of Living Organisms,” London and New York, p. 15.
10 The Conservation of Energy,’”’ New York, 1874, Chapter VI.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 53

of inealculability in living matter under the head of irritability,
and it has been recognized by biologists generally as one of the
essential characteristics of living matter. It must be considered
in any discussion of the internal organization of living organ-
isms. Much misty terminology and vagueness of expression has
clung about it, and the conception of irritability as Pfeffer
formulated it has much of the element of vitalism in it. Black-
man has expressed the hope that some of the implications of
irritability will disappear from biology, and be superseded by a
more modern statement in terms of chemical mechanics. As
attention has been more and more focused upon it, the incal-
culability of deportment of living matter has been found to be
little or no greater than that of high explosives in government
storehouses, and one would have some hesitancy in attributing
vital characteristics to explosives under recent diplomatic con-
ditions. The term stimulus so often used in connection with
irritability is another instance of a word which has no very
definite meaning except a rather arbitrary one. It is my belief
that the laws of chemical equilibrium are applicable, and will
do much to clear up our idea on the subject. If, as there is now
every reason to suppose is the case, the reactions in living
matter are like other physico-chemical reactions, stimuli, which
influence the reactions in living matter, are comparable to the
conditions which influence ordinary physico-chemical reactions.

A discovery of considerable importance, as illustrating the
action of a number of chemical substances in the body, was made
by Bayliss and Starling in connection with the mechanism of
eliciting secretion of the pancreas. These investigators found
that when the acid contents of the stomach come into contact
with the mucous membrane of the duodenum, a substance called
secretin is formed in the mucous membrane. This substance
secretin is absorbed by the blood and carried through the circu-
latory system to the pancreas where it excites the cells in such
a way as to produce a secretion. Substances which, like secre-
tin, are formed in one place and carried in the fluids of the body
to another, there to elicit a response, are known as hormones or
chemical messengers.

There have been other phases of work along the line of the
chemical organization of organisms which would require too
much space for a detailed consideration. One which seems to
me significant is the determination of the various forms of
starch grains and hemoglobin crystals by Reichert and Brown.
These results tend to show that each species has its own peculiar
physico-chemical constitution, that each organism has, in fact,
a physico-chemical system of its own.

54 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

This work on the crystallography of the hemoglobins is an
extension along another line of the work of Kossel on the chem-
ical constitution of the protein molecule. According to Kossel,
this consists of groups of aminoacids tied together, the nature
of the acids and the number of each kind in the protein molecule
depending upon the sort of protein selected for analysis. Toa
certain extent, the food value of any protein in animal nutrition
depends upon the closeness of approximation of its qualitative
and quantitative content of aminoacids to that of the tissues of
the animal by which it is used for food.

Blackman, loc. cit., in a most suggestive paper, has con-
sidered the chemical organization of the plant from the point
of view of the application of the principles of chemical me-
chanics to the processes in living organisms. In the ten years
that have elapsed since the publication of Blackman’s address,
the field of the application of the principles of chemical me-
chanics to the processes in living matter in general has been
considerably extended.

It may be objected that we have never shown that the same
principles cover the deportment of living and non-living matter,
and the objection must be allowed. But neither do we know
what principles cover the deportment of non-living matter in
its entirety. Until we have gone farther in both fields, we have
no rational basis for saying that living matter demands peculiar
principles of its own. When it has been definitely shown that
the principles of chemical mechanics, as they have been built up
from the study of non-living matter, do not apply to living
matter, or that no future principles which may be built up from
the study of non-living matter will apply to living matter, we
may be forced to take refuge in vitalism. But for the present,
the free use of that old canon of logic known as William of
Occam’s razor'—the principle that the unnecessary supposition
that things of a peculiar kind exist when the facts may be
equally well explained on the supposition that no such things
exist is unwarranted—should be freely applied in this connection.

But the chemical organization of the body, as has been
stated, comprises but a part of the internal organization of the
animal. We may now proceed to the consideration of the other
phase, the nervous organization of the animal body.

THE NERVOUS MECHANISMS OF ANIMALS

The work on the nervous organization of the animal body
has been done mostly on vertebrates, frogs, birds and mammals

11Entia non sunt multiplicandum praeter necessitatem. (Article
“Razor,” Century Dictionary.)

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 55

being chiefly used for experiment. Anatomical and pathological
study has included the human nervous system as well. The in-
fluence of the Italian anatomist Rolando is reflected in the
Rolandic area of the cerebral hemispheres, a term that still
persists.

The French physiologists of the early part of the last
century—Magendie, Le Gallois, Lorry, Desmoulins, Flourens
and others—began or continued fundamental work on the or-
ganization of the central nervous system. Magendie published
his text on physiology in 1816. So well were the chapters on the
nervous system done that the Italian physiologist Luciani in
1893 wrote that he still found it a valuable and useful book. I
can make the same statement in 1918. Magendie recognized the
role of the central nervous system, not only in movement, but
also in the maintenance of the attitudes of the body. He also
stated that the division of the brain into its anatomical levels or
segments such as cerebrum, cerebellum and the like was a purely
artificial division so far as its physiology was concerned. In
1916 Luciani found occasion to emphasize the functional unity
of the brain. Magendie also gave a statement of the mechanism
of instincts which is so clear that I still regard it as one of
our best.

Later in the century the discoveries in microscopy gave us
definite ideas of the cellular structure of the nervous system.
The accidental discovery of the Italian anatomist Golgi gave us
a method of coating a nerve cell and all its processes with silver
and enabled us to see clearly for the first time their exact form
and extent. Anatomical and pathological studies have given us
some knowledge of the relations of the fiber tracts in the brain
and spinal cord. The anatomical phase of the subject is not yet
complete and will not be for years to come.

The clinical observations of Broca on disorders of speech
and of Hughlings Jackson on epileptic convulsions led to the
early ideas of cerebral localization. The experimental results
of Fritsch and Hitzig demonstrated that motor nerve fibers,
excitation of which led to movements of particular groups of
muscles, originated in definite regions of the cerebral cortex.
Subsequent observations have shown that sensory fibers from
particular sense organs have definitely localized end stations
in particular regions of the cerebral cortex. There are still
many unsettled questions in the field of cerebral localization,
and much difference of opinion as to the degree or extent to
which various functions rest upon an anatomically circum-
scribed basis in the cerebrum. Some would go so far as to deny

56 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cerebral localization in some of its essential aspects. Personally,
however, I regard the theory of cerebral localization, and of
localization in general within the nervous system, as well estab-
lished in its main outlines.

The idea of functional integration, or physiological integra-
tion, as Herbert Spencer called it, has an application in the
nervous organization as well as in the chemical organization of
the organism. On its nervous side, it has been developed by
Sherrington as the integrative action of the nervous system.
Aristotle remarked that there was nothing in the mind, except
what had come in through the senses. This conception can, I
believe, be carried over to the side of the motor responses as
well as to the mental. There are conditions, apparently, under
which motor cells may discharge impulses without the previous
access to them of afferent impulses over fibers of other nerve
cells; but it does not appear to be the normal biological pro-
cedure. Afferent impulses seem necessary for the proper con-
trol of motor responses, or, to paraphrase a statement of
Edinger, afferent impulses seem necessary to make the motor
responses biologically adequate. The afferent impulses must be
summed up or integrated somewhere within the central system
before a biologically adequate motor response can occur.

The ordinary motor response to afferent impulses may be
called a reflex response. The essential condition is that an
afferent impulse shall find its way into the central nervous
system and thence be “reflected back” over a motor pathway
to a muscle or gland at the periphery. In recent years, Pawloff
has shown that a sound of a given pitch or a particular color, or
other external agent which, by itself, will not bring about a
reflex secretion of the salivary glands of a dog, may be sufficient
to excite such a reflex secretion if employed for a time every day
in association with the same external agent which will normally
bring about a reflex of saliva. If, for instance, a dog is shown
a square of blue paper every day at the same time it is shown
food, which will by itself elicit a reflex flow of saliva, after the
lapse of a few weeks, the sight of the blue paper alone is suffi-
cient to elicit the reflex flow of saliva. Pawloff has applied the
term ‘conditioned reflexes” to such responses. From my own
experimental results and from data now in the literature, I
have concluded that practically all reflexes are conditioned re-
flexes, since, as I see the problem, a definite group of afferent
impulses from different peripheral sources is necessary if any
reflex response is to be biologically adequate. A certain definite
set of conditions is necessary, therefore, for the elicitation of a

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 57

definite reflex response. As may be gathered from these state-
ments, I am inclined to extend the term reflexes to include a
considerably larger group of phenomena than is covered by the
older definition. On this point, I would sustain Loeb in his use
of the term reflex in its wider meaning.

Beyond a certain point, the application of the general prin-
ciples of chemical mechanics to the problems of the physiology
of the central nervous system does not now seem possible.
There has been, it is true, some change in the chemical composi-
tion of the nerves in the transition from frog to man. Certain
protein substances which are coagulable at a temperature of
36° C. to 40° C.—a temperature below the ordinary body tem-
perature of birds—appearing in the nerves of the frog are ab-
sent from the nerves of mammals and birds. But, in general
terms, the same chemical foundation—the proteins as a group—
is present, so far as we now know, in all nervous systems of
vertebrates. Various other substances of a fatty nature, but
all containing phosphorus or sulphur are also present in un-
medullated nerve fibers, but we do not know either the exact
nature of these substances in the nervous systems of various
animal forms, nor how their variation affects the function of
the nervous system at various levels in the evolutionary scale.
The study of the metabolism of nerve cells and fibers is a chem-
ical problem, and, to this extent, there is a chemical phase in
the study of the nervous mechanism of the animal body. This
chemical phase extends also to the study of disease in the nerv-
ous system, and through the work of Thudicum, Mott, Halli-
burton, Koch and others we have the beginnings of what we
may hope will be an important phase of the study of the organi-
zation of the nervous system.

The study of the nature of the nerve impulse is also a chem-
ical or a physical problem, or as now seems likely, a combination
of the two.

The particular thing which characterizes the nervous system
as a system is not its chemical organization, nor its role as a
chemical mechanism, but its action as a coordinating or inte-
grating mechanism. It is this integrative action which Sher-
rington has so luminously set forth in his writings. And it is
by virtue of this integrative action in large part that man and
the other animals express themselves by certain reactions aris-
ing in response to changes in the environment. Despite the
objections that have been urged against it, and despite some
obvious limitations, a modified anatomical basis seems the
surest upon which to build at present. With, as I hope, a reali-

58 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

zation of its limitations, I may remark briefly upon the essential
features of the method. Incidentally, the student of the scien-
‘tific method may perhaps gain some idea of the diversity of the
methods employed in physiology.”

We may regard the central nervous system as a physical
rather than a chemical mechanism in the sense that, although
some of the processes involved in the conduction of a nerve
impulse and the excitation of a sensory ending, a central cell or
an effector may be chemical, the relationships of afferent to
efferent neurones are spatial rather than chemical, and our
problem is not so much the problem of the nature of conduction
and excitation as the problem of where the connection between
incoming and outgoing impulses is made in the central system.
The conduction paths traced out and the cell groups described
by the anatomists afford a starting point, but they do not seem
sufficient to answer all questions concerning functional relation-
ships. The observation of the deportment of animals when
some part of the central nervous system is lacking through dis-
ease or experiment and its comparison with the deportment of
another animal of the same species when its nervous system and
sense organs are intact is a necessary adjunct to purely anatom-
ical study. The close and careful observation of the relation of
the deportment of individuals of closely related species to slight
differences in the organization of the nervous system has not
been completed in most instances, but anatomical differences
are observable in individuals of orders, genera or species less
closely related. Observation of deportment of normal individ-
uals, the modifications of deportment following disease or ex-
perimental procedures and anatomical description do not run
unbroken parallel courses from the lowest animals to the high-
est; great gaps often exist in one or more lines of evidence, but
some sort of a line may be traced from lowest to highest
animals. Often, the three lines run parallel, and we see no
apparent reason why, when all the gaps in all the lines of evi-
dence are filled in by subsequent investigation, all should not
run practically parallel throughout their courses.

The experimental method of the study of the function of the
central nervous system is not particularly new. Some of the
French experimenters of the early part of the last century have
already been mentioned. But the method goes back even far-
ther than this. Eckhard** refers to Pourfour du Petit’s'* re-

12 See Sherrington, “ Physiology; Its Scope and Method,” in “ Lec-
tures on the Method of Science,” edited by T. B. Strong, Oxford, 1904.

13 Hermann’s “Handbuch der Physiologie,” Bd. 2, p. 106, Leipzig,
1874.

14“ Lettres d’un Médicin a4 un Médecin de ses amis,’”’ Namur, 1710.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 59

search program of duplicating the various clinical manifesta-
tions resulting from disease of the brain in man by experimental
procedures on animals. Needless to say, neither Petit nor those
who have followed him even unto the present day have com-
pleted this program. But in the unhappy city and country in
which Petit’s program was first published, there has been
inflicted upon the military and civilian population a series of
experimental lesions of the nervous system by a race of super-
men with bullet and shrapnel bomb, potato masher, grenade,
bayonet, war club and high explosive, far transcending in
variety and difficulty of execution the things which he contem-
plated doing on animals. And because of the employment of
such methods, many of man’s sufferings from the war and war
conditions—deafness, blindness and shattered mentality—have
been more noticeable in the present war than in other wars.”

The experimentalist, although attacking the same general
problem as the anatomist—the organization of the central nerv-
ous system—nevertheless has a somewhat different point of
view. His object is not so much the mere acquisition of knowl-
edge of the architecture of the nervous system—the knowledge
of the location and form of certain cell groups, and the course
of certain fiber tracts—as getting at the place where and the
manner in which certain forces originating at the periphery are
summed up or integrated in the central system to produce a
definite, orderly and biologically adequate motor response. The
method of the experimental neurologist or student of the func-
tion of the nervous system is the method of physics rather than
the observational method of pure anatomy. The term integra-
tion may carry one back to his college days and the class room
in integral calculus. And, so far as I understand their point of
view, psychologists look at the problem in much the same way
that the experimentalist does. The incompleteness of our
knowledge is still as great as that of the anatomist. And the
persistence in physiology of words of uncertain signification, by
which we sometimes delude ourselves that we have an explana-
tion of certain processes beyond the point where knowledge
really ceases, still affords too much warrant for those who try

15 Mott, F. W., “The Effect of High Explosives on the Nervous Sys-
tem,” Lancet, February, 1916, and following issues.

Wilson, J. Gordon, “ The Effects of Heavy Shell Fire on the Ear,”
Harvey Lectures, New York, 1917-1918. To be published in 1919.

Smith, G. Elliot, and Pear, T. H., “ Shell Shock and Its Lessons,” 2d
ed., London and New York, 1917.

Babinski, J., et Froment, J., “Hystérie, Pithiatisme et Troubles
Nerveux d’ordre Réflexe.” 2me ed., Paris, 1918.

60 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to make the public believe that the words of uncertain meaning
have a very clear and definite meaning. For only on some such
basis can I understand the great vogue of the large and pros-
perous army of quacks who prey upon the unsuspecting or
credulous public under the guise of faith healers, and the like.

The reader should bear clearly in mind that we do not now
know either the chemical or the nervous organization in its en-
tirety. And in attributing any particular response or kind of
deportment to either kind of organization, we are using the
terms to signify what it does, as determined by observation and
experiment rather than what it is.

Space does not permit a further presentation of the great
mass of anatomical and functional detail which has been gath-
ered in the course of years of study of the nervous system.
The general reader who desires to get further information on a
system whose study will, I believe, become of more and more
interest and importance to the public in the years to come will
find the salient points of the anatomy and physiology in the
article ‘“‘Brain” in the Encyclopedia Britannica. Professor
F. W. Mott’s excellent little book on “Nature and Nurture in
Mental Development’’*® embodies the results of long years of
careful study of problems of heredity of mental disease and
other phases of the nervous system of interest to those who are
interested in the social aspects of insanity and criminality.

Two minor aspects of internal organization remain to be
considered; first, the organization of the heart, and then the
organization of the cell. The first is of great importance for the
well being of the higher animals, and the second for general
biology.

THE MECHANISM OF COORDINATION OF THE HEART

The heart, to a certain degree, has an organization of its
own. It is not a chemical organization in the sense that chem-
ical substances must be carried or conveyed from one place to
another in the body fluids, but a physical organization in that a
wave of excitation is conducted over physical communications
from one portion to another. It is now generally agreed that
the impulses leading to the contraction of the various muscular
groups of the heart originate in the Keith-Flack node (sino-
auricular node) and are conducted to the muscles through the
bundle of His (atrio-ventricular bundle) and the Purkinje sub-
stance. But whether the substance in the sino-auricular node in
which the impulses originate is essentially nervous or muscular

1¢ London and New York, 1914.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 61

in character, or whether conduction in the atrio-ventricular
bundle is over muscular or nervous tissue, or whether the Pur-
kinje substance is nervous or more of the general nature of
undifferentiated protoplasm are questions which, although sub-
jects of controversy, do not particularly concern us here. The
main point is that the organization of the heart is a physical
organization approaching the general nervous organization
more closely than the strictly chemical organization of the
organism. The frequency of the heart beat may be changed by
nervous and chemical influences.

THE ORGANIZATION OF THE CELL

The study of internal organization has extended also to the
simplest organisms. Briicke (1861) called the cell the elemen-
tary organism and postulated an organization other than that
represented by the visible structure. Whitman (1893) again
insisted upon the importance of regarding the cell as an organ-
ism. Hofmeister some years later wrote on the chemical organit-
zation of the cell. But the study of the organization of the cell
for many years has been predominantly a study of the chro-
matin material, principally from the point of view of the micro-
scopist. This phase of the subject lies outside of the province of
physiologist. The more recent work on the properties of cell
membranes and the nature of colloids does, however, come
within the realm of physiology, and is to be regarded as a part
of our knowledge of the chemical organization of living matter
in general. Its detailed discussion lies beyond the limits of
this paper.

(To be Continued)

62 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

MODERN COMMENTARIES’ ON
HIPPOCRATES

By JONATHAN WRIGHT, M.D.

PROPHECY AND PROGNOSIS

RECENT historian? of thought has remarked, in a some-

A what limited definition, that “the aim of scientific
knowledge consists in the prediction of phenomena.” Here is
where the priest and physician of primitive man found for
ages a common field of endeavor and a sense of reciprocal sup-
port and service. On the breaking asunder of these ties, which
were cemented in mutual advantage by virtue of their reputa-
tion for the prediction of phenomena “in anticipation and con-
sequent control of events,” as well as by virtue of the necessity
each had for the other in the struggle for existence among un-
civilized savages, medicine at first clung to the processes and prac-
tices of the priestly class of which the doctors had formed a part.
The aim of science as defined by Merz, it is true, is, in a limited
sense, the prediction and control of events, but it has lost that
meaning which had formerly been associated with the latter
term—the absorption of power and riches. As it lost this
meaning and thus essentially, it seems to me, changed its aim,
medicine became a science rather than an art. The methods
of the priestly class, of the mystic, of the fanatic, of the ideal-
ist, could no longer suffice for this new aim, which crept into
medicine under a definition which we now clearly see was not
definite enough. It still strove to predict events, but its aim
became not only this; it became the ascertainment of truth as
an end in itself and not simply “to control events.” I do not
mean to assert that religion also has not in its higher realiza-
tion become a search for the truth, but in the sense we now
give to the phrase it was a later development and it has never
become an end in itself in its higher realization, because its
ultimate aim is adoration or salvation and the aim of science
does not go beyond the goal of truth.

1 The translations of Francis Adams, “ Hippocrates, Genuine Works,”
V, 1, New York, William Wood & Co., and E. Littré’s, “ Hippocrates,
Oeuvres complétes,” Paris, J.-B. Bailliere, 1839-1861, 10 v., have been
chiefly used and compared with Littré’s Greek text.

2 Merz, John Theodore, “A History of European Thought in the Nine-
teenth Century,” Vol. IV., 1914.

HIPPOCRATES 63

In the treatises of Hippocrates in the work ‘‘On Ancient
Medicine” and in that “On Airs, Waters and Places,” we rec-
ognize an all-embracing catholicity of thought which carries as
far beyond the domain of modern medicine and into that of
many scientific problems with which we are to-day concerned.
Upon these I have touched elsewhere in their connection with
the history of medicine. I desire here to point out how prog-
nosis as it has later developed in the evolution of the medical
art was in the time of Hippocrates intimately interwoven with
the practice of prophecy as applied in other mundane activities.
The discussion as to whether the “ Coacze Prenotiones” is the
derivation or the origin of the other books on prognosis—‘ The
Prognostics” and “The Prorrhetics”—is not exceptionally
important to the aspect of the subject which I wish to broach
here, but it is not unimportant to take notice that three books
have been preserved to us, whose titles indicate that their con-
tents are taken up with the prevision of the future. When we
read them we find indeed that they are largely devoted to the
description and discussion of symptoms, but they are much
more occupied with the question as to whether the patient is
going to get well or not than with thoughts dwelling on the
nature of the lesion and its cause. Pathology, in our view, had
hardly arisen yet. They cultivated the study of those etiologi-
cal factors in disease only remotely, in our sense, associated
with the changes in the structure and functions of the tissues.
They saw clearly many links in the chain of causation to which,
unfortunately, we are all but oblivious. They were presbyopes,
we are myopes.

In the closing paragraphs of the “ Prognostics”” Hippocrates
warns us that we “should not complain that the name of each
disease is not written down in this treatise for all those that
are terminated in the intervals of time alluded to are distin-
guished by the same symptoms.” The rendering of this clause
is rather obscure in the translations both of Littré and of
Adams, and I do not know that I have improved it by amend-
ments, but the sense is that this is a work which has to do with
prognosis, not diagnosis, derivable from the symptoms. Littré
takes it that this refers only to acute cases, but as it evidently
has to do in the text with cases of empyema—in which term
we may probably include not only effusions into the pleural
cavity but phthisis, I can not see how this remark is applica-
ble. Neither can I understand why he looks upon it as a book
of special pathology, even taking into consideration the differ-
ence in the signification of that term which prevailed fifty or

64 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sixty years ago and now. I do not think we have anything to
compare with it in modern medical literature. The idea of
basing a book on the symptoms solely or chiefly for the pur-
pose of arriving at a prognosis is foreign to our way of look-
ing at medicine to-day.

I have elsewhere dwelt upon the danger the primitive doc-
tor ran in ministering to the ills of wild men, in having more
responsibility thrown on his shoulders than he could safely
bear, in being credited with more knowledge and power than
he in reality possessed. To secure the latter, in his close affilia-
tion or even identity with the king and the priest, he claimed
powers we call supernatural, and, as long as this close union
of church and state and science existed, it had an invulnera-
bility which it has never possessed since differentiation began.
The first to be extruded from the entente was the doctor, then
after many many thousands of years the priest, and now we
are hunting for the blood of kings in their last lair.

In a previous essay® I have devoted more space to this very
significant and very fortunate incident in the early history of
the evolution of thought and I will only borrow from it the
story of Livingstone. Livingstone,‘ one of the most fearless
and one of the most humane of men, tells of a trying and peril-
ous predicament in which he was placed at the death bed of an
old and valued friend, an African king:

Poor Sebituane .. . I saw his danger, but being a stranger, I feared

to treat him medically, lest in the event of his death I should be blamed by
his people. I mentioned this to one of his doctors, who said: “ Your fear
is prudent. This people would blame you.”
There is a passage in the appendix to the treatise “On Regimen
in Acute Disease,” which is to the following effect in Littré’s
translation. In such and such conditions of the patient “ never
give hellebore, for it is to no purpose; and if anything happens
to the patient, they will blame the medicine.” Serious conse-
quences perhaps were not so frequent for the physician in
Greece in the unfortunate sequel to the treatment of a king,
but the calamitous consequences are only a matter of degree
for the doctor whenever and wherever the misfortune falls on
him.

Adams, incidentally in the course of his remarks on this
addendum to the “Regimen of Acute Diseases,” says:

3 New York Medical Journal, Feb. 24, 1917.

4 Livingstone, David, “ Missionary Troubles and Researches in South
Africa,” New York, 1868.

HIPPOCRATES 65

I myself—albeit but verging towards the decline of life—can well
remember the time when a physician would have run the risk of being
indicted for culpable homicide if he had ventured to bleed a patient in
common fever; about twenty-five years ago venesection in fever, and in
almost every disease, was the established order of the day; and now what
shall I state as the general practise that has been sanctioned by the ex-
perience of the present generation? I can scarcely say, so variable has
the practise in fever and in many other diseases become of late years.
One is apt to miss an important element in the development
of medicine if one loses sight of the fact that when the public
are informed as to the proper treatment of disease, to bleed
or not to bleed, to expose the patient to freezing air or to pro-
tect him from it—the enlightened public in another generation
or two may be an obstacle to the utilization of the “real truth”
—not to bleed or to bleed.

At any rate old copies of popular information issued by
boards of health should be destroyed after a few years. We
are continually reminded of the caution necessary to secure a
proper attitude of mind on the part of the friends as to the
treatment of the case and that unfavorable results may not
surprise them into a hostile state of mind toward the medical
attendant. Should the aspect of the case give the latter a hint
as to an approaching fatal issue “death may be anticipated,
and it is well to announce it beforehand,” we read in the
“ Prognostics.”

I need not go back over what I have in several places elab-
orated in varying ways for varying opportunities of applica-
tion in connection with the matter of the divorce of medicine
- from religion, but there is in this dissertation on the great value
set on prognosis and prophecy another opportunity to intro-
duce it in remarking how frequently we can pick out in the
Hippocratic writings instances where he sounds a note of warn-
ing of the danger medical men run in the practice of their pro-
fession. At first thought it appears that the frequency of the
intrusion of this serious matter in a discourse on the theory
and practise of medicine is much greater than can be noted in
modern medical literature. But though we may seek in vain
for it in the stately volumes of medical science, as well as in
the fugitive essays of the experimental activities and the in-
ductive observations of more ephemeral modern literature, we
must remember how specialized the latter has become. If we
turn to the proper shelf we shall find the tomes on legal and
forensic medicine, and in the special headlines of the weekly
medical journals we will find them drawing our attention
rather ostentatiously to space especially alloted to the very

VOL. Ix.—5.

66 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

problems the primitive doctor faced and to which Hippocrates
alluded. It required the protecting shield of sacerdotalism in
Egypt to protect the former and in Asia, in the story of
Democedes we find in the pages of Herodotus medical slaves
crouching in the dust before the king of kings, Cyrus the Great
and Darius, or their writhing bodies impaled on the spears of
his palace guards, and two thousand years later the relatives
of the Turkish pasha whom Zerbi treated at Constantinople,
tore the unfortunate doctor and his hapless son limb from limb
because of the unexpected death of the patient. Prophecy and
prognosis are in such a state of society or in anything approach-
ing it very pressing and important departments of medical
science. Hippocrates therefore is speaking pertinently when
he says when death is anticipated ‘‘it is well to announce it
beforehand.”

The lay public has always been anxious to ascribe to the
practioners powers which the wise among them are continu-
ally at pains to disclaim. The accounts of innumerable suits
for malpractise which to-day fill the special columns of medical
publications and the bulky volumes to which I have alluded
remind us that Moliére in echoing a jibe older than Petrarch
or Pliny or Pindar was but speaking to the point in placing
such words in his false doctor’s mouth. Sganrelle’s conception
of the vantage ground on which he stood is a false one, quite
consistent with the character of a médecin malgré lui, con-
gratulating himself on the advantages of the doctor’s calling,
but blissfully unaware of its dangers. Moliere was not speak-
ing at all from the fundamental situation which underlies the
relation of doctor and patient but in revealing the state of the
public mind in the time of the grand monarque, he is uncover-
ing for us in the study of the history of medicine an ever-lurk-
ing menace to the doctor. He reveals the attitude of the laity
in an epoch of high civilization, looking with suspicion on the
manner in which doctors employed the power of life and death
they were believed by the common people to possess over those
who submitted themselves to their ministrations. Sganarelle
says:

Que c’est le métier le meilleur de tous: car, soit qu’on fasse bien, ou
soit qu’on fasse mal, on est toujours payé de méme sorte. La mechante
besogne ne retombe jamais sur notre dos; et nous taillons comme il nous
plait sur l’étoffe ou nous travaillons. Un cordonnier, en faisant des
souliers, ne saurait gater un morceau de cuir qu’il n’en payé les pots
cassés; mais ici l’on peut gater un homme sans qu’il en coute rien. Les

bevues ne sont point pour nous, et c’est toujours la faute de celui qui
meurt. Enfin le bon de cette profession est qu’il y a parmi les morts une

HIPPOCRATES 67

honnetété, une discretion la plus grande du monde; et jamais on n’en voit
se plaindre du médecin qui I’a tué.

Now I fancy this is the reason we find in ancient Greece
prognosis taking the lead rather than diagnosis in the titles and
thoughts of the authors of the treatises of the Hippocratic col-
lection, for in free Greece exposed to the fury of the populace
and out from beneath the shield of sacerdotalism, unprotected
by king or court, it was well indeed to be a little “ beforehand”
in anticipating death and disaster. Thus prophecy was a very
important element indeed in the equipment of the early Greek
doctor and prognosis received an attention of which our courts
of justice have deprived it to some extent.

If a modern physician stops for a moment to take an in-
ventory of his own field of mental activity he will, I think, find
that prognosis does not occupy a very large part of his thoughts
in regard to his patients and still less those in regard to the
diseases from which they suffer. It is true that in proportion
as the practitioner is removed from centers of medical discus-
sion and is confined by necessity or confines himself from
choice almost entirely to the practical aspects of his avocation,
in the sense of managing the patient as much as his disease,
with eyes open to his own financial and social interests, he will
be found making more shrewd guesses from the symptoms as
to whether his patient is going to recover or die. It is not the
lesion and its cause so much as the practical result of the con-
dition in which he finds his patient. Adams likens him to the
anxious pilot looking out for storm ahead and in this view of
the importance of prophecy or prognosis, expressed or sup-
pressed, he wonders why this branch of semeiology is no longer
cultivated by the profession. ' The answer I think is quite evi-
dent to us. There are not so many storms ahead as there were
in the days of Hippocrates, when medicine was being weaned
from the nursing care of the temples of religion. The doctor
found it more difficult than the priest to point out that the un-
expected death of the patient intrusted to his care was due to
the hand of God.

Now it is indisputable that less dangerous emotion was
aroused in the breast of primitive man and to-day the shock
is softened if the patients’ friends can be prepared beforehand
for a fatal issue. If they can be impressed with the serious-
ness and the danger of the condition, the prophecy of ultimate
recovery may easily be so worded as to reflect credit on the
doctor for a favorable result which he shrewdly judges is pretty
liable to occur anyhow. So it appeared to Hippocrates

68 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

a most excellent thing for the physician to cultivate Prognosis; for by
foreseeing and foretelling, in the presence of the sick, the present, the past
and the future, and explaining the omissions which patients have been
guilty of, he will be the more readily believed to be acquainted with the
circumstances of the sick; so that men will have confidence to intrust
themselves to such a physician. And he will manage the cure best who
has foreseen what is to happen from the present state of matters. For it
is impossible to make all the sick well; this, indeed, would have been better
than to be able to foretell what is going to happen; but since men die,
some even before calling the physician, from the violence of the disease,
and some die immediately after calling him, having lived, perhaps, only
one day or a little longer, and before the physician could bring his art to
counteract the disease; it therefore becomes necessary to know the nature
of such affections, how far they are above the powers of the constitution;
and, moreover, if there be anything divine in the diseases, and to learn a
foreknowledge of this also. Thus a man will be the more esteemed to be a
good physician, for he will be the better able to treat those aright who can
be saved, from having long anticipated everything; and by seeing and
announcing beforehand those who will live and those who will die, he will
thus escape censure.

I will not stop to inquire as to the reasons for receiving or
rejecting the second book of the ‘“ Prorrhetics” as a genuine
work of Hippocrates further than to remark it bears the im-
print of some master hand. The question of its authorship is
sufficiently discussed both by Littré and Adams, though it is
found only in the edition of the former. The author, whoever
it may be, continues in a train of comment entirely in keeping
with the first paragraph I have just quoted from the “ Prog-
nostics”’; indeed, the thought seems continuous. He says:

They quote the prophecies of doctors many, admirable, marvelous,
such as I have never made myself nor heard any one else make. Here is
one kind. A patient appears without any chance evident to the doctor
who has cared for him or to other people; a second doctor comes along who
proclaims that the patient will not succumb, but that he will lose his sight—
cr it may be he will be lame of one arm—or that he may re-
cover indeed but will have gangrene of one of his toes, or they
have eaten something or drunk something or done something
which is responsible for their conditions.

As for me I take note of the symptoms from which I may form some
opinion as to who among my patients will recover and who will die, who
will die or get well in a short time and who after a long time. I prescribe
then for the lesions and indicate how each is to be regarded.

The opening phrases of these two books when taken to-
gether exhibit a common sense and a shrewdness and an appre-
ciation of what is both prudent and seemly in the practitioner
which at least in the simplicity with which it is set forth rises
to the level of genius. He tries to explain how these seemingly

HIPPOCRATES 69

rash prophets arrive at their prognoses and how they elude
discomfiture, but this does not interest us so much as another
matter. This class of persons who incur the displeasure of the
author by their propensity to “bluff” includes individuals who
concern themselves not only with the prognoses of disease, but
busy themselves with another sort of prophecy. Insurance
offices were not yet opened to the venturesome man of business
who still desires to cast an anchor to windward occasionally.
Xenophon led an adventurous life and got into all sorts of un-
pleasant scrapes, and, evidently to keep out of them, he kept
a prophet, like a medieval astrologer, by his side. It was a
part of the prognostics of these prophets to whom Hippocrates
refers to point out “‘to people whose occupation is business and
venturesome enterprise, deaths for some, insanity for others,
other diseases for others, prophesying in all these matters for
the time ahead without ever making a mistake.” He makes no
reflections on the ethics of doctors who thus go around giving
tips to business men as to people on whom they have to depend
for carrying out their schemes. Perhaps he saw no harm in it
at all. It has remained for modern life to capitalize prophecy
and to back it with hard cash. Up in the top rooms of the sky-
scrapers along Broadway are medical men busy advising those
who take chances on future events, who are going to die and
when. They draw horoscopes and guarantee them. Xeno-
phon’s prophet drew the horoscopes, but it was a precarious
job at best and without a guaranteed policy, issued for cash
paid down in the form of the prophet’s board and lodging. It
soon became a neglected art, but it has been revived in London
and Liverpool and New York in later times.

After Greek business men and soldiers of fortune gave up
their prophets, the latter disappeared from history and do
not emerge into prominence until the Arabian astrologers
penetrated Christian precincts and we find them again at the
elbow of the greedy, the lustful and the venturesome. In his-
tory, even, they appear in the Middle Ages as sinister figures,
while among the novelists of the later romantic period they
often appear as the arch villains of the plot. Scott made them
so unpopular it seems almost like sacrilege to recognize in the
medieval personage of the astrologer the connecting link be-
tween friends of Hippocrates and the medical directors of our
life insurance companies.

When we apply ourselves to the texts themselves of the
several books we find that the author by no means confines him-
self to discussing those appearances and internal symptoms of

70 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the patient which can be used in forming an opinion as to
whether the patient will die or live. Even where he does, as
in the celebrated passage of ‘‘ The Prognostics” on the facies
of death, he describes appearances so striking that it scarcely
requires the education of a medical man to discern in them the
death agony. It is, however, the phenomenon itself which con-
fronts the student when he engages first in the study of medi-
cine. This is the condition he is expected to avert or whose
onset he is to strive to delay in his future practise. It is in
fact the central point in his field of interest. This state is the
one which forms an excuse for many things he must insist
upon in the regimen of the patient, this is the state to avoid
which men will obey him and pay him eagerly all he asks. De-
spite its obvious nature then it finds its proper place as the
first instruction the reader receives in studying the art of
prophecy. It belongs in the category of prognostics as directly
bearing upon it, but immediately we find the discourse wan-
ders off into paths which quickly disclose to us the vistas of
the practise of medicine as an art resting upon observations
capable of apprehension by senses trained by their exercise.
Prognosis is the practise of medicine for the wary Greek doc-
tor. He wants to know not for the joy of knowing in itself,
but for his behoof in making his way in the world and avoid-
ing disaster. The title pages of these books therefore bear on
their face evidence of the way the old Greek doctor looked on
his profession. I think we are near the truth and not over-
presumptuous in declaring that is not the typical attitude of
the best part of the profession to-day. It is not now the first
thing which occurs to the modern doctor as he enters on his
profession or on his duties in attendance on the sick that “by
seeing and announcing beforehand those who will live and
those who will die he will thus escape censure.”

I may thus be seeming to cast aspersions on the ethical
nature of Greek ideals from a very singular elevation for the
purpose—the solicitude of the doctor for his patient’s future,
the desire to soften the blow to the friends by preparing them
for the worst. Surely in this day of altruism we have every
reason to look upon such motives with approval. In the
Spencerian philosophy we were taught how such altruistic sen-
timents arise from self interest, how sympathy and compassion
arise from the inward reflection that the pain may be our own
some day, this feeling growing in intensity to the point of actu-
ally feeling the pain and sorrows of others as our own in some
sensitive natures. However indisposed we may be to explain

HIPPOCRATES 71

away all generous sentiments in our nature in this way, history
plainly points out to us that this appreciation of the importance
of prognosis on the part of the Hippocratic writers arose not
so much from the disinterested impulses of nascent humani-
tarianism as from a knowledge of the consequences likely to
follow from the resentment of friends and relatives who in-
herited the primitive idea that the issues of life and death are
in the hands of the doctor himself.

If we turn to scan the actual words of this famous sentence
on the facies of death, “a sharp nose, hollow eyes, collapsed
temples; the ears cold, contracted, and their lobes turned out;
the skin about the forehead being rough, distended and parched;
the color of the whole face being green, black, livid or lead-
colored,” we get a picture which has become classical in many
literatures. Lucretius threw it into Latin verse and Celsus
into Latin prose. Shakespeare’s striking description of Fal-
staff’s death-bed in words of Dame Quickly is also referred to
by Adams:

For after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers,
and smile upon his fingers’ ends, I knew there was but one way: for his
nose was as sharp as a pin, and he babbled o’ green fields.—So he bade me
lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and
they were as cold as any stone, etc. (Henry V., ii, 3).

Having quoted this familiar passage, Adams incidentally
says in a footnote that he can not forbear to remark “that it
appears to be rather out of character to make the wandering
mind of a London debauchee dwell upon images of green fields.”
He thinks when such a person comes to die, his imagination
would dwell rather on bawdy houses and drinking taverns.
The old villain may well once have been a country lad at-
tracted by the lights of the great town. The memory of age
and the dreams of senility are those concerned with the scenes
of our youth and he may well have “‘babbled of green fields”
which wine, women and song had banished from the years
which had intervened. Dame Quickly would hardly have no-
ticed it if he had babbled of the lechery and drink of taverns.
An incapacity to perceive wherein lies the genius of Shake-
Sspeare is not a very good equipment for the study of Hip-
pocrates and a closer parallel to Shakespeare’s description of
the death of Falstaff can be found in another passage® in the
Hippocratic writings, as I have elsewhere pointed out.

Notwithstanding the graphic realistic and impressive na-
ture of the phrase in the “ Prognostics”’ on the facies of death,

5“ Epidemics,” III., Case XV.

72 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Hippocrates begins at once, in the same clause, to modify it,
the earmark also of his genius, the incapacity not to realize that
every phenomenon has a twofold aspect at least—that there
are two sides of the shield to be inspected despite the neat thing
he had said. Some of the symptoms may perhaps warrant a
different prognosis. Perhaps the patient has slept badly, suf-
fered long for food when first seen and this has put on him the
impress of death. It is perhaps better to wait a day or two and
see if the picture persists, or perhaps the patient has suffered
two or three days from an attack of cholera. These cautious
doubts flit through the mind of the careful practitioner and
make him suspicious of his smartness at epigram: but after all
—‘‘all these are bad and fatal symptoms” and usually “ death
is close at hand.” This is the difference between prophecy and
prognosis. This is the difference, almost antipodal, between a
prophet and a man of science, so wide apart have they grown
who were once brothers. Hippocrates did not belong in the
prophet class.

CONTROL OF MINERAL RESOURCES OF THE WORLD 73

THE COMMERCIAL CONTROL OF THE MIN-
ERAL RESOURCES OF THE WORLD: ITS
POLITICAL SIGNIFICANCE

By J. E. SPURR

UR modern civilization and progress is largely a matter
() of more powerful and finer tools wherewith to control
more and more the forces of nature and direct them toward
advancing human comfort, convenience and power. These
tools are constructed mainly from the metallic elements and
minerals in the earth’s crust. Breaking away from the use of
wood and stone, hardly more than a hundred years ago, coal
and iron made possible the railroad, the steamboat, steel bridges,
ships, tunnels and canals, with the consequent beginning of the
uniting of the peoples of the civilized world into a common-
wealth. Nations became powerful as they possessed, or had
free access to, coal and iron. Next with the development of
electricity, copper became essential; by this means the tele-
graph, the telephone, the transmission line for power plants
were made possible, and the substitution of hydro-electric
power for steam. With the development of steel, more power-
ful materials became possible through alloys of steel with
rarer metals, such as nickel, chromium, vanadium, tungsten,
molybdenum and these latter became each in its way increas-
ingly important. With the invention of the gasoline engine the
oil concentrations in the crust came to rival in importance the
coal fields, for thus was made possible the automobile and the
airplane.

The races of men cover the land of the globe, save where the
cold is too intense, at the poles; and also save where fresh
water is scanty or lacking, for without water there can be, ac-
cording to the terrestrial plan, no life, whether animal or veg-
etable. Everywhere else, in all lands, vegetable foods which
feed the race may be grown. Wheat encircles the earth, in
both hemispheres.

But the metallic elements which are found throughout the
earth’s crust are segregated or consolidated so as to be easily
won by man in special restricted areas, not defined by latitude
or longitude. Nor can such ores be transplanted or made by

74 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

human ingenuity to develop in spots where they do not exist.
The culture of corn, potatoes and tobacco may be carried from
America to Europe, and the breeding of horses from Europe
to America, and thus original economic advantages may be
obliterated, but not so with the mineral kingdom.

The occurrence or lack of these mineral concentrations in
the lands occupied by a race constitutes, therefore, under the
present system, one of the most fundamental and unalterable
advantages or drawbacks to progress. The race possessing
the fullest complement of these metals, in quantity, tends to in-
crease most in power. The race that has them not, or not in
due proportion, must, if it is to keep pace, obtain them, either
by conquest or by trade, or both. The struggle for the border-
lands between France and Germany, including Alsace-Lorraine,
was a struggle for coal and iron.

The natural boundaries for autonomous states are those of
race, tongue and geography; but the extent and forms of em-
pires, and of their tentacles have been and will be determined
by natural resources, chief among which are the fullest comple-
ment of the metals; and so it will remain until the world-
federation, with free trade by sea and land.

Probably no nation has seen this so clearly as Germany.
She had to, being relatively poor in natural resources.

Of all great nations (save, perhaps, the old Russian EKm-
pire) the United States has within its boundaries the greatest
mineral wealth; and perhaps least of all great nations has
realized its political significance. The United States possesses
vast iron, coal and oil reserves; the richest copper districts of
the world so far developed (probably only South America will
rival them) and adequate lead and zinc deposits. Hence in
large measure the rapid rise of the United States to power and
wealth; hence her fitness for leading the world in civilization.
She has the sinews of war, of peace and of growth.

Two elements of weakness in this respect present them-
selves. First, the lack of full development of internal re-
sources, because in many instances it has been easier to trade
than to develop. This defect the present war has in part rem-
edied; and we should look to it that it is studiously remedied in
the future. Germany possessed (before she lost Alsace-Lor-
raine) the only large resources of mineral potash in the world,
and therefore deemed herself in a position to dictate to other
nations and exact supplies of other raw materials, such as cop-
per, rubber and cotton, which she must have. Nevertheless, we
have vast stores of potash, especially in our silicate rocks,

CONTROL OF MINERAL RESOURCES OF THE WORLD’ 75

which stores we have slowly developed under the stimulus of
high war prices; and it seems entirely probable that we can, if
we wish, supply ourselves entirely from domestic sources. Sec-
ond, there are mineral resources in which our country is poor
or lacking. Natural supplies of tin and platinum, for example,
are practically wanting.

The possession of great resources by a country is not final
as an advantage; for in the end it is not political but commercial
control which gives rise to power, wealth and the growth of
individual civilizations. Small nations and even lone cities have
become powerful and dominant in proportion as they spread
their web of commercial control over wider and wider areas.
The old example of Phcenicia will come to mind, and later and
more especially, Venice, and still later the Free Cities of Ger-
many. The cramped islands of Britain drew the inhabitants to
the sea, to voyaging and trading, with the consequent growth
of a great empire and the attendant necessity of becoming mis-
tress of the seas. Holland at one time furnished a similar ex-
ample, as well as Spain, and even Portugal.

As the power of these great commercial nations, as well as
their commerce itself, depends upon their fleets, so it is great
naval battles that have in many cases signalized the fall of
great world powers. The defeat of the Armada ended the con-
trol of the seas for Spain; the sweeping from the seas of Van
Tromp’s fleet for Holland; and by these and other naval vic-
tories Great Britain achieved her world predominance, which
she can maintain in no other way than by her present naval
policy.

Many of us have wondered what Germany meant by the
“freedom of the seas.” What else than relief from the naval
control of Great Britain? Freed from this, the German navy
would soon have strengthened and extended her overseas em-
pire. The freedom of the seas can mean little else than that
Britain shall so equalize her navy with that of other great
powers that the navy of each of these shall have as equally im-
pressive an influence (on minor as well as upon major peoples)
as has that of England. We ourselves know well the valuable
regulative power of a show of battleships and perhaps a land-
ing of marines. “All very well,” reflects Britain, ‘but how
shall we police our world-wide empire against these very peers
and commercial rivals of Britain unless our navy is prepon-
derant; and what other nation has such a scattered empire to
. guard?” In truth, the control of the sea-lanes to Canada, India
and Australia, is to Britain what the control of our transat-

76 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

lantic railways and of the Panama Canal is to the United States.

The commercial control of mineral and other natural re-
sources is normally followed by political control. Spain sent
expeditions to Mexico for gold and the Conquest was the result ;
much as in modern times, the English adventured in South
Africa for gold and diamonds, with the consequent disturb-
ances which ended in a war of conquest. To this day, as the
underlying cause of great political events, careful scrutiny will
often discern the necessity for minerals. The role of Mexico’s
mineral resources, especially oil, in her recent tempestuous his-
tory has yet to be unearthed from the secret archives and made
clear.

Commercial control may be secured by political control, or
may exist independently of it. We imagine that because the
United States possesses great mineral wealth, she is, therefore,
in a position to dictate to other nations, to withhold or supply.
Does this follow in the case of China or India? On the con-
trary, it becomes a source of weakness unless coupled with com-
mercial control. Where commercial control lies outside of China
or India, the people pass under foreign domination along with
the natural resources of their countries. It was with great good
judgment that the Mormons hunted away the prospectors from
Utah and forbade mining, knowing that the powers of the Mor-
mon State would fall when mineral wealth was developed.

We fail to realize the quiet, incessant and invisible power of
commercial control, working intricately and efficiently in a thou-
sand ways, often almost, or quite, beyond the control of gov-
ernments. In times of war a nation may set up partly success-
ful barriers between its wealth and the grasping hands of other
peoples; in times of peace there may more easily develop, unfet-
tered, vast commercial empires whose boundaries do not by any
means coincide with the political empires, and which possess
great power, and shape the course of history.

What are we going to do about it? The first thing to do is
to understand the facts and the essential elements of the prob-
lem. We must make a preliminary survey of the world to see,
separately, where each of the essential metals is segregated into
workable and valuable fields. Incidentally, we will note in what
geographic boundaries and under what governments these great
deposits lie. Next we must see who really owns them, what
companies, where incorporated, and how controlled; and who
owns the stock. But that is not all, nor most important. The
key to commercial control lies not in the nationality of the
stockholders, but in the nationality of the capital behind the

CONTROL OF MINERAL RESOURCES OF THE WORLD 77

enterprises. This is not always easy to find out, but it must be
charted as accurately as possible.

For us, one of the principal lessons of such a study will be
that the United States Government must protect and encourage
the investment of American capital in mineral wealth. (I write
only from the standpoint of the study of ores.) It must do this
in the United States, else we shall have our resources dominated
commercially by foreign capital, close upon the heels of which
normally follows foreign political influence and guidance. We
must do it in minor countries which look to us for support, espe-
cially the minor American republics which we have long de-
fended from European and Asiatic aggression and domination.
The Monroe Doctrine, if held to, must be applied to commercial
as well as political control. Germany at the outbreak of the
World War had gone far toward establishing outposts of her
commercial empire in certain parts of South America, which
were fast becoming parts of her empire politically. Her prog-
ress would probably have been consummated had she not
brought on the war; indeed, she was in a fair way to have estab-
lished a commercial outpost in the United States, which would
have affected the political control of our own country.

Commercial strength lies in the combination of capital, and
only by recognizing and encouraging combinations of American
capital engaged in mining can the well-organized foreign com-
binations of capital be offset and checkmated. The government
should see to it that such companies are loyal and American, for
loyalty in commerce is as important as loyalty in politics, and
these companies the government should guide and control, in
proportion as their size and influence increases, considering
them as they grow, to merge gradually into what may be con-
sidered essentially public utility companies, to serve public
uses, just as the railroads have been considered to be; and a
full understanding and alliance should be made with such min-
ing companies, who should understand the need and right of
government direction. Herein—in the power and science of
capital—lies much of the future of history, only it must be di-
rected and handled for the common good. If we do not use this
science of capital, we shall be easily outdistanced by more highly
organized nations.

It is, perhaps, not too much to say that some economic or
commercial reason lies behind nearly every political tendency
and event, the sum total of which makes up history. I do not
refer exclusively to the influence of capital. It may be the in-
fluence of labor or of the great mass of consumers. Most potent

78 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

will be this impulse where the influencing interests are best
organized, and it is of course for this reason that the combina-
tions of capital, no matter how justly they operate, are so
powerful. The present stage of the world is the stage of or-
ganization and combination, and there have developed, in all
advanced countries, very strong associations of capital inter-
ested in or even controlling certain industries the world over.
It is idle to think it is possible to break up these combinations
of business which like combinations of governments must, in
the necessary course of evolution, grow stronger. It is, there-
fore, essential to study these forces in order that they may be
coordinated and controlled. The remedy for the consumer and
the laborer, against anything but benefits from such organized
efficiency, lies in their exercising over it, through their govern-
ments, the control necessary to safeguard their position and
to better it.

Modern invention, increased facility of communication, and
modern time-saving and distance-eliminating discoveries, have
led inevitably toward both commercial and governmental com-
binations. The progress from the prominence of state gov-
ernment in the United States through the strong federal con-
trol system, the constant accretion of territory and spheres of
influence, and finally the plan of the world-combination of gov-
ernment, was the result of the same inventions which led com-
merce in all countries to gather in larger and larger pools,
which finally became national and are now international.

A single example (among many available) of the problems
of political and commercial control of minerals may be briefly
cited. Petroleum will apparently be to the future what coal
has been to the past—predominant in importance on the land,
in the air and on the water—through the automobile and
tractor, the airship and the modern petroleum-burning steam-
ship, which apparently will largely supersede the coal burner.
The control of petroleum production, and especially of strategic
oil bunkering, will control the seas and commerce, in the in-
terest, if need be, of the controlling nationality. Some extracts
from an unpublished article by John D. Northrup, oil specialist
of the U. S. Geological Survey, will illustrate this problem:

POSITION OF THE LEADING POWERS
United States:

With respect to developments expected in the petroleum industry,
within the next decade, the position of the United States, thanks to the
enterprise and foresightedness of financial interests of domestic origin, is
apparently strong. United States interests are practically supreme in the

CONTROL OF MINERAL RESOURCES OF THE WORLD 79

commercial control of the petroleum resources of the Western Hemisphere,
dominating the petroleum industry in the United States, Canada, Mexico
and Peru, holding substantial interests in Trinidad and Venezuela and in
the prospective petroliferous areas in Central America and Colombia. Its
only competitors are British and British-Dutch interests, which control the
petroleum situation in Trinidad and are not only strongly intrenched in the
United States, Mexico and Venezuela, but are aggressively seeking to en-
large their holdings in those countries and to gain footholds elsewhere.
Unless the United States adopts measures to limit the aggressions of for-
eign capital in this country, such as federal operation of the trunk pipe-
lines, and adopts either a firm forward-looking governmental policy toward
the protection of investments of its citizens in petroleum properties in
other countries, particularly Latin American countries, or adopts the more
radical but amply justified policy of direct governmental participation in
petroleum developments in other countries, it may witness its commercial
supremacy in petroleum affairs wane and disappear, while it is yet the
largest political contributor to the world’s supply of petroleum.

Great Britain:

British and British-Dutch interests easily dominate the petroleum
situation in the Eastern Hemisphere by domination of the petroleum in-
dustries of Russia, India and the Netherlands East Indies. The strength
ef Great Britain’s present position in the World’s petroleum affairs lies in
a strong governmental policy in the matter and in the wide scope of Brit-
ish petroleum investments, embracing practically every country of which
petroleum is an important product and nearly every country of which it
is a product of potential importance.

France:

Since control of the petroleum interests of the Rothschilds passed into
the hands of the Royal Dutch-Shell Syndicate (British-Dutch), the influ-
ence of French finances in petroleum affairs has been negligible, outside
Galicia and Italy, where its influence was not great. At the termination
of the war French capital will undoubtedly participate in efforts to deter-
mine the petroleum capacity of the Barbary states, French dependencies,
but that it will be appreciably involved in organized efforts to control the
world situation with respect to petroleum is not anticipated.

Japan:

Japanese investments in the world’s petroleum industry have not yet
attained significant proportions outside Japan itself, though the Japanese
government is officially alive to the importance of Japanese investments in
petroleum properties in Mexico, particularly Lower California and Sonora,
China, and undoubtedly Russia, and large investments of Japanese capital
in the petroleum industry in one or all of those countries may be confi-
dently expected in the near future.

More recent developments in the oil industry, since the
above was written by Mr. Northrup, serve to emphasize the
tendencies which he describes.

These quotations furnish the key for our future American

80 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

policy. Such mineral wealth as we possess in an exportable
surplus must be managed for our best advantage. Such min-
erals as we do not possess in quantities sufficient for our own
needs must be secured to us so far as possible by a definite and
intelligent governmental policy.

I may digress somewhat to point out what appears our pres-
ent best national policy as regards our own scanty supplies of
this latter class of mineral commodities. There is at present
an agitation among certain portions of our mining industry for
the protection of some of these mineral industries which have
developed through the stimulus of war shortage and high prices,
and for rendering them permanent. From the national stand-
point this would be shortsighted. We would be consuming our
scanty reserves and would be impoverished in this respect more
and more in the future. It is much better, for example, to trade
our surplus of cotton and copper for the high grade chromite
and manganese of other nations, being sure, however, to adopt
such a moderate policy that our own reserves of such ores, in
part at least, are readily available upon emergency.

tudents of foreign trade in ores and of the mining industry
of foreign countries, as well as our own, have noted that the
competition of combined commercial interests other than the
German, exists under official or semi-official guidance, and that,
for example, the policy of the English in this regard is a very
strong and deliberate one with which we have to count. This
development is a natural one and we find the same impulse in
American thought. Note, for example, our frankly expressed
plans for capturing foreign trade and for having our merchant
marine predominate on the seas. We can not, of course, do
these things without taking wealth and power away from Eng-
land and other maritime nations. Hence it is the right and in-
telligent policy for these nations to further their own interests
just as we plan to do. However, if our policy is to be self-
protective and nationalistic, as we state so openly, assertions
are not enough: we must back these up by direct government
encouragement and protection, such as is afforded the British
and other nationalities by their governments. Americans, for
example, or American companies (together with other for-
eigners) are debarred from owning or operating oil-producing
properties in the British Isles, Colonies and Protectorates; but
British-controlled companies have important holding in the oil
fields of the United States, which they are extending.

In some of the mineral commodities, it seems very possible
that there will soon develop, if there does not already exist in

CONTROL OF MINERAL RESOURCES OF THE WORLD 81

some cases, a world shortage which may tend to grow more
stringent, since the development of the arts requiring these
materials will undoubtedly grow rapidly, while the natural sup-
plies of these materials may not be increased in proportion.
Therefore, there will be necessarily sharp competition between
the United States and its best friends, such as England and
Japan, as well as between us and our former enemies. This
commercial struggle will have a certain tendency to terminate
in the future precisely as it has in past history—in commercial
and political intrigues, in bitterness of national feeling, and in
wars. We may liken the commercial struggles of the respective
nations to the cut-throat competition of rival commercial houses.
The historic commercial-political struggle for the fur trade of
North America between the British Hudson Bay Company, the
French companies, and Astor’s American Company in Oregon,
is essentially what we may deduce in principle as the result of
all great struggles for the enlarged trade and greater wealth
of nations at the expense of each other. Speaking in the lan-
guage of commerce, is this good business? Will it pay in the
long run? Has it paid? Did it pay Germany, our best ex-
ample? A continuation of this competition means for England
an absolute necessity of keeping by means of her fleet the posi-
tion of mistress of the seas. It means for America a program
which has already been put forward, viz., the program for
building a fleet as large or larger than England’s. Competitive
matching of navies to protect the commerce of their respective
countries will end in the same way as competitive matching of
armies—in war.

The only reasonable solution would seem to be for the rival
houses to amalgamate. The plans for a league of nations are
now under consideration, but there is grave doubt as to whether
they will mature satisfactorily. If many nations, large and
small, with different ideals shall seek to form a union, then it
may be feared that no practical results will arise. It seems not
only feasible, however, but imperative that the three nations
which stand abreast in the forefront of civilization and are
highest developed as regards fairness and good will toward the
whole world, viz., the United States, Great Britain and France,
should amalgamate for their own and the world’s good, and
agree upon a firm central policy with plans looking forward
toward reciprocity or free trade, so far as it is fair, among
themselves. Treaties will be no good; history has shown them
to be what the Germans cynically termed them—‘“ scraps of
paper.” The world has already tried a central judiciary and

WOle Ex—O.

82 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

has gained some fragments of international legislation but these
have been of no avail to prevent war. Any league to be ef-
fective must be bound, not only by a central judiciary, but by a
central legislative body, executive council, and a central military
or police force by land and sea. But of even greater importance
is the principle that for any league of two or more nations to
be effective and permanent there must be commercial, as well as
political alliance. The political league of the United States of
America would not last long if there were interstate tariffs and
discrimination in commerce by one state against the citizens of
another.

Let this federation of the English- and French-speaking
peoples be formed as a first step, and let it be tried out. By
itself alone it would guarantee the world its peace. Other
nations would be on probation and would be admitted one by
one as they showed themselves desirous and competent, just as
the territories of the United States have been admitted one by
one to the brotherhood of states. This triple federation would
safeguard the rights of peoples outside of the federation, to be
well governed, to have their government administered for their
own good, rather than for the advantage of exploiting powers
or individuals. This does not mean that every state or tribe in
the world should have the same voice in the world government
as others. The Afghans can not have the same influence indi-
vidually or collectively, as the Americans or British, except as
they develop and show themselves more and more worthy, but
it is the right and duty of the most advanced individuals and
nations to see that nations like Afghanistan and India have the
same fairness of government administered to them as the Amer-
icans or British.

FEUDAL TIMES IN VENEZUELA 83

FEUDAL TIMES IN VENEZUELA

By Professor A. S8. PEARSE

UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN

ENEZUELA has lately excited considerable newspaper
V interest and gained a rather unsavory reputation in the
United States on account of its supposed pro-German sympa-
thies. There have been rumors of submarine bases on the
Venezuelan coast, of the proposed sale of an island to Germany,
and other more or less wild tales. During the past summer
the writer spent six weeks in Venezuela and was surprised to
find that ninety-nine per cent. of the people were heartily in
sympathy with the United States and the allies in their war
against Germany. He became well acquainted with members
of the president’s family and heard President Gomez express
nis views on various matters of state, both foreign and domes-
tic. This article attempts to give a true picture of conditions
as they exist in Venezuela. If we are going to have business
end political relations with South America, we must begin by
understanding the conditions, customs and ideals in the coun-
tries with which we deal.

Venezuela is a beautiful mountainous country with great
natural advantages. The mighty Orinoco drains the greater
part of its area. There are fine grazing lands, fertile planta-
tions and valuable mineral resources. Its three million people
are intelligent, courteous, hospitable and good natured. Cara-
cas, the capital, is a beautiful city nestling in a great natural
bowl surrounded by mountains. This city is the most “stylish”
the writer has ever visited. People are extremely well dressed.
Every clerk carries a riding crop when he goes abroad in the
evening.

All this fair country is owned by General Juan B. Gomez.
To be sure, General Gomez does not have the actual title to all
its estates, but his will is absolute and he may confiscate what
he wishes at any time. He gained Venezuela, like the feudal
barons of old, because he was and is the strongest man in it.
When he retires the country will not be handed over to his son,
nor to any one who may be elected president—wmnless this suc-
cessor is a strong man. Castro was a strong man and a brave
one. Gomez was the trusted commander of the army that made

84 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

SD See

his government possible. When Castro’s wild and erratic be-
havior compelled him to flee, Gomez took over the country by
a “‘bloodless revolution.”

Gomez was elected president (every one of the little coun-
tries in Central America and the upper half of South America
has a perfect form of government, on paper, and the laws are
punctiliously observed, on paper). But having spent his days
as a rancher and soldier, Gomez had no taste for an office-
holder’s life. He therefore appointed another man to wind the
presidential red tape. Venezuela now has an “acting presi-
dent,” who does the administrative work, and a “president
elect,” who tells him what to do. This shows how much power
Juan B. Gomez has. It also shows that Gomez is no weakling
who received his inheritance from a proud but incompetent
parent. Nor was he elected president because he could make
a good stump speech; nor because he hired a big newspaper.
His political machine was built of soldiers.

FEUDAL TIMES IN VENEZUELA 50

Under the present administration the people of Venezuela
are better off than they have ever been before. On this account
Gomez is generally respected and admired by his retainers.
One of the general’s hobbies, which he preaches constantly, is
that every one must work—and in a real “manana” country
such an idea is revolutionary. Some of the old régime, who lay
in soft berths as office-holders during Castro’s time, are grum-
bling at home in amazed discontent, but people generally are
rather pleased with the new order. One who works is now
sure of some reward.

General Gomez is also liked because he has in general been
just in regard to property and family rights. Though confis-
cation of land and other property by the government was an
old, established, and of course always strictly ‘legal,’ means
of income for office-holders in Venezuela, it has been adminis-
tered with a considerable degree of justice since Castro’s time.
Of course, there are still abuses; politicians can not learn new
methods in one generation. To-day it is much easier to get
foreign capital into Venezuela than it was ten years ago, and

ON THE ISLA DEL BURO OUR PARTY SHOT THREE DEER IN AN HOUR, There are few
game laws in Venezuela, but the slaughter of birds for plumes is prohibited.

86 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

TWO OF THE DECK HANDS ON A A CABALLERO.
STEAMBOAT, There are no child labor
laws in Venezuela.

the “willingness” of capital is a good index of a country’s
stability.

Venezuela, though constitutionally and formally a republic,
is actually as much an absolute monarchy as Russia ever was.
The power of General Gomez is complete, and with this condi-
tion the virtues and evils inherent in absolutism obtain. The
discipline throughout the country is like that of an army. One
who commits a misdemeanor is speedily clothed in a fiery red
convict suit and put to work twelve hours a day. Such quick
justice is conducive to good behavior. The country is in gen-
eral orderly, safe and quiet.

But “justice” is not always just. Unlimited power per-
mits officials to vent private spleens. Sometimes men—often
they are men of ability and prominence in the community—
are thrown into prison overnight, and no one dares ask why.
If the necessity arises, it is easy enough to find perfectly ade-
quate legal reasons for such cases. On this account, foreign-
ers who live in Venezuela do not often become citizens of the
country. One specific instance will make conditions in this con-
nection plain. A mechanic in a factory was told to come on
Sunday to do some extra work. The man did not appear and

FEUDAL TIMES IN VENEZUELA 87

said on Monday that he had been sick. The owner of the fac-
tory, being a man of influence, sent the fellow on an errand;
then called up the police station and gave orders to have him
put in jail and kept there until orders were received to let him
cut. The workman stayed in jail two weeks.

Unlimited power is responsible for the detestable conces-
sions, characteristic of most Latin American countries. In
Venezuela it is customary to let the concession for selling
stamps. One buys a stamp in one place and mails his letter
elsewhere. There are government concessions for manufactur-
ing, for selling, for transporting, for owning land. With
power centralized as it is, these concessions are bound to be
granted in many cases as rewards for political or military ser-
vice or sold to those in favor with the government. Thus a few
persons have most of the chances to make money. There is no
general opportunity for everybody. A peon’s son is expected
to be a peon himself, and can rarely rise to a better position.

Culturally, Venezuela is of course rather backward when
compared with more progressive nations. She has had and has
some very good painters, as the admirable work in the National
Art Gallery shows. There are excellent musicians and music
is generally much appreciated by the better classes of people.
There are a few good doctors, lawyers and teachers. The great
mass of the people, however, are rather illiterate and the ele-
mentary schools are largely in the hands of the church. Do-
mestic arrangements are usually rather primitive and often
unsanitary, even in the cities. Cooking is done over charcoal

BULLS ARE THE COMMONEST DRAFT ANIMALS IN VENEZUELA,

SS THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

VENEZUELAN GARDENER PLANTING YOUNG TREES, Seedlings are reared in joints
of bamboo. When they are set out, one side of the “ pot’ is split off to allow the
roots to spread, and the whole buried in the ground. In this way the roots are not
disturbed and the bamboo as it decays furnishes nourishment for the young plant.

fires on the ground, or on an earth-covered table in the kitchen;
the smoke being allowed to escape through holes in the wall.
Most of the houses are made of clay with tile or thatched roofs.
The natives are accustomed to close all the openings of bed-
rooms tightly at night, and, as would be expected, tuberculosis
is prevalent.

But the next generation will see marked changes in Vene-
zuela. There is a crying need for more and better opportuni-
ties for education. Caracas has already established two excel-
lent trade schools, one for boys and one for girls. Even in the
country districts one meets ambitious fellows studying at night
to improve their position.

Under General Gomez the roads throughout Venezuela have
been greatly improved. It is now possible to go comfortably
from La Guaira to Porto Cabello by automobile. Concrete
houses with yards about them are appearing here and there in
the country districts. These are coming into favor and will
undoubtedly in time replace the Spanish type of house (built
of adobe clay around a central court)—which, though well
suited for defense against attack, is neither pleasant nor
sanitary.

In Venezuela the standards for chastity are somewhat dif-

FEUDAL TIMES IN VENEZUELA 89

ferent from those prevailing in the United States. The women
in Venezuela are as careful in the observance of their mora!
code as those of any country, but their standards are not those
commonly observed among English-speaking nations. One
illustration will make conditions clear. President Gomez,
though he has never married, is estimated to be the father of
some hundred odd children. The laws of Venezuela permit a
man to legalize the children any woman not his wife may bear,
and the president has made such procedure for two families,
which therefore constitute his legal heirs. Any man of wealth
is likely to have a few odd children scattered about the country
and no one thinks much about it.

The most pathetic thing in Venezuela, as in all countries
founded by the conquistadores, is the narrow life forced by
custom upon the women. Any respectable woman sees most
of the world through the iron bars of the windows of her
“sala,” or living-room. A girl or woman who goes abroad
without an escort is continually accosted by men. One Ameri-
can lady in Caracas said that the men frequently whispered
things to her as she walked on the streets. One fellow who

TWO WOMEN POUNDING CORN FOR MBAL IN A MORTAR MADE BY HOLLOWING OUT THB
END OF A LOG.

90 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

knew a little English hissed, ‘ First prize!,” in her ear as he
passed.

Before the war Germany dominated Venezuela commer-
cially. Numerous concessions were held by German firms and
most of the capital which developed the country came from
Germany. The well-known Germanic commercial methods
were in vogue. Various schemes were practised in order to
keep the prominent men of the country “in line.” For exam-
ple, General Gomez is said to have bought stock in a German
company and to have received 1.5 per cent. on it each month
for thirty years. There are many signs of German influence.
The Venezuelan army wears typically Teutonic, spiked helmets,
and ‘ goose-steps.” But as regards the recent war, the senti-
ment of the great mass of the people was with the allies.

Doubtless Venezuela will during the next generation or two
lose much of the picturesqueness which makes it so attractive
to-day. The free-handed hospitality of feudal times will have
to give way to the suspicion and meanness attendant on com-
mercial progress. A riper civilization will bring better sani-
tation, improved opportunities for every-day citizens, a broader
cutlook for women, better educational advantages, and other
desirable changes. But the romance which always goes with
grand estates dominated by great personalities must pass
away. Feudalism will depart from Venezuela.

ANCIENT INDIAN IDOLS, FOUND ON AN ISLAND IN LAKE VALENCIA,

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

91

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE ATLANTIC CITY MEETING
OF THE AMERICAN MED-
ICAL ASSOCIATION

THE seventieth scientific assembly
of the American Medical Associa-
tion, held at Atlantic City during
the second week of May, was notable
as a celebration of the service of
medicine to the nation in time of war.
The attendance of members was
about five thousand, nearly all of
whom had taken an active part in
national work, either as officers of
the army and navy or in other direc-
tions. When the armistice was
signed there were 35,000 medical
officers in the army and 3,000 in the
navy—more than one fourth of the
entire profession of the country.

At the Atlantic City meeting there
was a general opening session at
which the president, Dr. Alexander
Lambert, of New York City, gave
the annual address and delegates
from foreign nations were intro-

national organizations, the activities
of which have definite medical inter-
est, were represented by speakers,
each of whom gave a ten-minute ad-
dress on the general subject of
American medicine and surgery as it
responded in service under war con-
ditions. There were represented the
Army, the Navy, the Public Health
Service, the Red Cross, the Associa-
tion of Military Surgeons, the Amer-
ican Health Association, the National
Tuberculosis Association and the
American College of Surgeons. The
scientific papers and discussions of
the meeting were presented before
the fifteen sections into which the
scientific assembly is divided.

The American Medical Associa-
tion is by far the strongest existing
organization of scientific and pro-
fessional men. It is based on com-
ponent state and county societies
whose total membership is over

eighty-two thousand. Its excellent
weekly journal has a circulation of
nearly the same size. The total
number of physicians in the United
States is less than 150,000, so that
more than half of them are mem-
bers of their organization. The Na-
tional Educational Association has
a membership of only about 10,000
from among some 500,000 teachers.
Teachers are now forming unions in
many cities, but the American Med-
ical Association and the state and
county medical societies have long
accomplished the same objects, at-
tested by the high standards of the
profession and its great service to
the nation.

MEDICINE AS A DETERMINING
FACTOR IN WAR

THE part played by medicine in
modern warfare was reviewed by
Dr. Lambert in his presidential ad-

dress before the American Medical
duced. At a second general session |

Association. The subject was in
part treated historically to show the
great change which has resulted
from advances in medicine, surgery
and public health.

In earlier wars the decision has
often depended more on the wastage
of the armies by disease than on
their fighting. In the Thirty Year

War, which began in 1618, the
battle casualties were only a few
thousand, but typhus, smallpox,
bubonic plague, dysentery and
scurvy, with famine added to pesti-
lence, reduced the population of
Germany from sixteen to four
million.

The Crimean War, 1854-1856, is
said to show the highest loss from
battle casualties among the Rus-

sians, and from disease among the
French, of all wars of which we
possess accurate records. The battle
death rate among the British was
69 per thousand per year, among the

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THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 93

French 70, and among the Russians
120. The disease death rate was
230 per thousand among the Eng-
lish, 341 among the French, and 263
among the Russians.

In the Franco-Prussian War of
1870, the Prussians reached the
highest standard of protection
against disease that any army had
yet attained. The ratio of their
battle casualties was 55 per thou-
sand to a rate of death from disease
of 25. The French, hampered by
the quartermaster control of med-
ical organization, in a demoralized,
defeated army, suffered battle cas-
ualties of 68 per thousand and a
rate of death from disease of 141.
Among the French prisoners of war,
smallpox broke out as a plague,
about 14,000 cases occurring in
Germany and about 25,000 in the
interned army in Belgium. Small-
pox followed as an epidemic in Ger-
many, causing the death of 170,000
persons after the war.

Dr. Lambert reported that the
death rate in our Civil War of killed
and dying of wounds as 33 per thou-
sand, the disease death rate as 65.
In the Spanish War the death rate
from battle was 5 and the death
rate from disease 30.4 per thousand.
The statistics of the American Ex-
peditionary Forces, with an average
strength of 975,716, reveal a rate of
death from wounds in action of 31.2
per thousand and a death rate from
disease of 11.2. Of those who died
of disease, pneumonia claimed 9.1
per thousand.

In the Spanish-American War,
60.5 per cent. of all deaths were
caused by typhoid, and in the pres-
ent war 85 per cent. were caused
by pneumonia. The pneumonia was
mainly the result of the world-wide
epidemic of influenza and the mor-
tality of some American cities ex-
ceeded that of the camps. If the
death-rate from pneumonia is sub-
tracted the total death-rate from
disease in the army at home and

abroad is only 2.2 which is appar-
ently less than the death rate of the
men in civil life.

Dr. Lambert maintained that the
importance of the Medical Depart-
ment of the Army is such that it
should be adequately represented on
the General staff. In the concluding
part of his address he drew the
logical deduction from the medical
lessons of the war, that this nation,
through its present medical knowl-
edge, has within its grasp the power
to control communicable, and hence
preventable, diseases, and that there
must be established a nation-wide
controlling organization for this
purpose, a National Department of

| Health.

JOSEPH BARRELL

THE science of geology has had
great losses during the past year or
so in the deaths of Grove Karl Gil-
bert, George F. Becker, William
Bullock Clark, Henry Shaler Wil-
liams, Samuel Wendell Williston,
and now a man of the greatest
promise, Joseph Barrell. All of
them have been leaders in geology
or paleontology, and Barrell stood as
high as the highest.

Joseph Barrell was born at New
Providence, N. J., December 15,
1869, and died in New Haven, after
one week of illness, on May 4, 1919.
He leaves a wife and four sons. He
was descended from George Barrell,
a Puritan who migrated from Suf-
folk, England, and settled at Boston
in 1637, and was named after his
great-grandfather, a _ patriot
wealthy shipowner of Boston.

Barrell was thoroughly trained in
engineering at Lehigh University,
and later in geology and zoology at
Yale. He took three
course at Lehigh, B.S.,
MS., and in 1916 that
gave him her doctorate of science.

and

degrees in
E.M. and
university

'On this occasion President Drinker

Barrell—Distin-

recognized

* Joseph
scientist, a

said:
guished

For Forty Years Professor of Cryptogamiec Botany in Harvard University, by
whose death the United States suffers the loss of one of its most distinguished men

of science.

JOSEPH BARRELL

Late Professor of Structural Geology in Yale University.

96

leader in the study and teaching of
geology, known and honored for his
research and writings in the sci-
ence of the earth in which the
earth’s history has been written by
a mighty hand—Lehigh is proud of
the record of this alumnus, whose
life work has been so modestly yet
so ably done, and through whose
work his alma mater has_ been
highly honored.”

In 1893, Barrell began teaching
geology at Lehigh, leaving to take
his Ph.D. at Yale in 1900. Then he
returned to Lehigh until he was
called to Yale in 1908. In 1908 he
was made professor of structural
geology. Recognition of his work by
his fellow workers in science came
last April in the form of election to
membership in the National Acad-
emy of Sciences, the highest honor
that can come to any American man
of science. He was also a member
of the Sigma Xi and of Phi Beta
Kappa, a fellow and councillor of
the Geological Society of America,

and a fellow of the Paleontological |

Society. He had traveled widely in
North America and in_ southern
Europe, studying in the field the
interrelations and deformations of
the geologic deposits and their wear
and tear by the forces of nature.

Professor Barrell loved to work
at the more difficult problems of
theoretic geology, such as the gen-
esis and age of the earth, isostasy,
and the strength of the earth’s crust.
His studies on the principles of sedi-
mentation and their climatic signifi-
cance have received much attention.
In paleontology, he presented evi-
dence to show that the fishes arose
in the waters of the lands, and that
lungs were developed, under the
most trying conditions of semiarid
climates, out of air-bladders
fishes. Similarly, that man is
peculiarly a child of the earth and is
born of her vicissitudes.”

In childhood Barrell was thinking
of things scientific, and was even
then more fond of books of learning
and travel than of fiction and poetry.

“cc

of |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

He was preeminently an observer
and a student, and his recreation
was scientific reading. Due to his
training as an engineer, he always
retained a liking for mechanics and
mathematics, and through their aid
loved to delve deeply into the
broader problems of geology and
biology. It was, in fact, these wider
interests and the ability to work
along so many lines that made him
the deep and original thinker that
he was. His colleagues at Yale will
miss his stimulating originality. To
them he was a second James D.
Dana, and curiously both had a
strikingly similar likeness.

C.
SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Walter Gould Davis, for many
years director of the Meteorological
Bureau of Argentina; of Lawrence
M. Lambe, of the paleontological
staff of the Canadian Geological
Survey, and of Edmund Weiss, di-
rector of the Vienna Observatory
for thirty-two years.

THE John Fritz Medal of the four
national societies of civil, mining,
mechanical and electrical engineer-
ing has been awarded to Major
General George W. Goethals, for his
achievement in the building of the
Panama Canal.

S.

Dr. W. W. CAMPBELL, director of
Lick Observatory of the University
of California, has been named head
of an American delegation of astron-
omers that will attend the interna-
tional meeting in Brussels in July.

Dr. ViTo VOLTERRA, professor of
mathematical physics in the Univer-
sity of Rome, will deliver a series of
six lectures on the Hitchcock
Foundation at the University of
California in August or September.

Sir ARTHUR NEWSHOLME, K.C.B.,
who is now in the United States has
accepted for the academic year 1919-
1920, the chair of hygiene in the
new school of public health of the
Johns Hopkins Medical School.

fo SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

AUGUST 1919

FORTUNES IN WASTES AND FORTUNES
IN FISH’

By Dr. VICTOR E. SHELFORD

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

I. INTRODUCTION.

E have been at war with a well-organized nation which
\ had planned and saved with war in view. In our be-
lated endeavor to conserve existing resources and to develop
rew and latent ones, new problems arose and will continue to
arise throughout the reconstruction period. Some of these
concern fisheries and the pollution of waters. The United
States Fish Commission has urged the public to eat fish, to
make every day a fish day. This was no doubt done in the
early days of our republic, for in a great strike of apprentices
one of their chief demands was that they be not fed on salmon
more than three times a week. Attention has accordingly
been directed to the fact that where many fish ought to be
there are few to be had. We find that fishes have greatly
decreased. With only a brief survey of the situaticn one sees
that the general problem of maintaining fishes against ex-
tensive catch and against pollution of waters with sewage
and the waste products of manufactories is very complex. It
is so complex indeed that in considering pollutions one may
1 Contribution from the Illinois Natural History Survey and from the
Zoological Laboratories of the University of Illinois, No. 124. For ref-
erences to the literature of the subject and sources of information see,
Bull. Ill. Nat. Hist. Surv., Vol. 18, Art. 12. The paper is the outgrowth
of work done for the Nat. Hist. Surv.; The Dept. of Zoology, Univ. of IIL,
supplied the illustrations. The writer is indebted to Professor S. W.
Parr, Dr. Roger Adams and Mr. F. C. Baker for suggestions during the
preparation of the manuscript.

VOL. IX.—7.

98 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

write only from his experience and knowledge without assum-
ing to have covered or exhausted the field.

The richness of the fish supply of our east coast in the
early colonial days was beyond our wildest imagination. One
early writer said of the shad of the Delaware and Susquehanna
rivers, “They came in such vast multitudes that the still waters
seemed filled with eddies, while the shallows were beaten into
foam by them in their struggles to reach the spawning grounds.”
They swarmed every spring from mouth to headwaters of every
river from Maine to Florida. Shad was undoubtedly the most
important fish food in the early days of the nation. They were
eaten fresh, and smoked and salted for winter use. During the
spring runs people traveled long distances to shoal rivers to
obtain their winter’s supplies.

Along the Illinois River many years ago, buffalo-fish afforded
the chief marketable species. These were caught by farmers,
fishermen and others, and shipped by boat, principally to St.
Louis. As no ice was used the fish frequently spoiled, or they
were thrown away because the market was overloaded. Thus
this great resource was depleted by careless and wasteful
methods of catching and marketing.

The Atlantic salmon once entered all the rivers of New
England; now it is the most expensive fish on the market. Our
Great Lakes once yielded whitefish in abundance, but now the
number is exceptionally small in comparison. Some of our
Pacific-coast fisheries are likewise being depleted. Every
stream formerly yielded fish to small boys and old men anglers.
If any of these sources yielded half their original quantity it
would now be counted a veritable fortune in fish.

Our fish resources have been depleted through neglect, care-
iessness and the pollution of waters. Such as are still left are
endangered by new projects and new pollutions. There has
been too much bald scientific and business sophistry in the mat-
ter. Ichthyologists, biologists, engineers, sanitarians, indus-
trial chemists and business men, without consultation, coopera-
tion or critical analysis, have proceeded on the basis of their
imperfect and fragmentary knowledge to draw inferences as
to the effect of this or that on fishes. The inferences of some
scientists are not especially more in keeping with an equitable
decision relative to a policy favorable to the public interest than
was the exclamation of a manufacturer when confronted with
a law intended to stop his factory from polluting streams:
“What, stop a great industry because of a few fish!” The
pollutions of manufacturing plants and city sewage have greatly

FORTUNES IN WASTES 99

aggravated the depletion, or in some instances have completed
the destruction previously started by heedless fishermen; but
the pollutions are far more serious than the initial injury be-
cause they preclude the possibility of easy recovery. We have
all sinned alike until it becomes imperative that we take stock
ef our knowledge, now that we are under the pressure of numer-
ous problems demanding immediate solution because of the
great war and necessary reconstruction.

The damage done in our fresh waters by pollution and ob-
struction of streams with dams with no adequate fish ways is
almost incalculable. The great increase in manufacturing in
the past fifty years has loaded our streams with poisons which
have seriously furthered the destruction of fishes that were
formerly available everywhere. To be sure the Mississippi and
its larger tributaries supply fish, particularly carp, in quantity
to the market and in the Illinois River, for example, the number
of fishes at points about 200 miles or more from Chicago has
been increased by increasing breeding grounds and the fertil-
izing of the waters by the Chicago sewage. When one consid-
ers that fishes have been wiped out for about 120 miles to bring
an increase this far down the river, the gain proves after all
to be a loss. The importance of pollution has been little realized
in America, but progress along these lines has been very slow
everywhere.

In Scotland about the year 1220 it was ordained that from
Saturday night to Monday morning it should be obligatory to
leave a free passage for salmon in all the various rivers. Al-
most seven hundred years later a very similar law was enacted
in certain of our Pacific states, but the time is shorter, being
from Saturday night to Sunday night. The absence of such
laws in New England a century ago has caused infinite damage
to salmon and shad resources.

In 1606 an act passed by James VI. of Scotland forbad the
pollution of lochs and running streams because it was hurtful
to all fishes bred therein. The punishment for violations were
severe. Three hundred and twelve years later we are confronted
with a problem of substituting fish for beef, pork and mutton
and find our laws no better than the laws of three to seven hun-
dred years ago and the native fish supply very much reduced
through heedlessness and pollution with waste.

These wastes are numerous and have been less often pre-
served in America than elsewhere.” Tar is an important waste
substance. At one time coal-tar was considered a nuisance in

2 See “ World Wide,” Toronto, November, 1917.

100 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

gas-making, difficult to handle and difficult to dispose of. Tar
is to be looked upon as the prize among waste products. It is
unlikely that anything furnishing such an enormous number of
useful substances will again be found nor can the enormous
wastage of them in America be repeated again. The number
of chemists who have investigated this substance is, of course,

BUI LIAYO

asva/9
Chemicals

rl

Q
=
N
o
Q

Tar

On CO,
Ac id
lati

- TAR

Dye
WOOP seRVATIVE

EFINERY WASTE

SALT WATER

Cas

YIdOHd FOWMFS

PETROLEUM

INDUSTRIAL WASTES
AND
REF USE

Fic. 1. Diagram showing, in the form of a tree, the various wastes and the
useful substances into which they may be manufactured or which may be obtained
from them.

enormous. It was in 1856 that Sir William Perkin produced
the first dye to be made in large quantity. He was a success-
ful business man as well as a chemist, and built and operated
a dye factory in England.

There are numerous interesting cases of waste products
that have proved gold mines to men who have found ways of

FORTUNES IN WASTES 101

turning them into something useful. The volatile substances
given off in the making of charcoal from wood, for example,
have become very important. In the old way of making char-
coal all these valuable products (wood alcohol, acetone, acetic
acid, etc.) were entirely lost, but to-day they are the most im-

DISEASES.
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SS z ei SS W S
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INDUSTRIAL WASTES
ANO
REFUSE
Fic. 2. Diagram showing the various wastes and the damage they do when not

properly recovered.

portant of the substances obtained. The investigation of waste
materials is often very fascinating, and sometimes leads to un-
expected ends. This was the case with the waste earths from
which materials used in the making of incandescent mantles
had been removed. Small mountains of these wastes were

102 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

accumulating and Baron von Welsbach went to work to inves-
tigate them for oxides other than those used in the manufac-
ture of mantles. By means of electricity he reduced some of
these oxides, obtaining certain lumps of metal. In cutting a
lump with his knife, he discovered a remarkable sparkling
effect. He soon saw that this had commercial possibilities, and
the outcome of it was the preparation of a form of gas lighter
to replace matches. These metals have also played an impor-
tant part in the great war as flares for lighting no-man’s-land
and in furnishing the various types of signals. This was a
very important waste product.

As the years go on waste products are constantly disap-
pearing from European industry and to a lesser extent from
American. Great competition and the lowering of prices have
made it essential for factories to utilize or dispose of all their
waste material, and processes that leave large margins for
waste have not much chance of success. Utilization of waste is
necessary in America now that we have to make up for the
enormous wastage of war.

Perhaps most of what one may call the sensational discov-
eries with regard to waste substances have already been made;
but there is still a great field for research both in recovering
useful substances and in rendering residues harmless to ani-
mals. There is the wood-pulp industry, for example. Over
145,000 cords of pulp-wood, valued at $800,000, were lost an-
nually in Canada, and also large quantities of sulphur from
the chemicals used. The waste liquors containing these sub-
stances have been discharged into rivers or the sea and are
very poisonous to animals. There is a good opportunity to
utilize sawdust, and to get more value out of it than in the past.
It has been used for making artificial silk, and also for manu-
facturing alcohol. If alcohol should come to be used in place
of gasoline for automobiles, this would, in all probability, prove
a profitable means of obtaining it.

It would be a very great advantage to the tanning industry
if really good use could be found for the spent tan and the vari-
ous waste liquors. These are now used as fertilizer. It is agri-
culture that seems to get the benefit of a large number of the
odds and ends of waste substances. If one can find no other
use for a waste material, he can probably work it off either as .
a cattle food or as a fertilizer though at a very low price. But
one must not pass blissfully over the damage the substances do
when wasted as shown in Fig. 1 and Fig. 2. The fishes must
be considered. Attention is accordingly turned to some of the
specific needs of fishes and fisheries.

FORTUNES IN WASTES 103

II]. FRESH-WATER FISHES

1. Their Needs.—The presence or absence of fishes is con-
trolled by (a) their ability to recognize the presence of strange
or deleterious substances and to turn back when they are en-
countered, and (b) by their survival or death in situations
where they can not escape the deleterious conditions. The
sense organs with which they recognize strange or deleterious
substances have been shown to be very elaborate and effective.
Fishes recognize exceedingly minute quantities of numerous
substances, for example, two parts per million of sulphur diox-

| x
8C.P. LAMP 8C.P. LAMP

SUBSTANCE
GRADIENT

SUPPLY
a
a ——— Fe DRAINS
= = S |Ieall
= = || IU}.
Se = == |
Sas 2
ites es i

Ric. 3.

Fic. 3. Gradient Tank (A). longitudinal Section of Tank (B). Fig. 3, A,
The gradient tank and apparatus for introducing substances into one end. The water
flows into the two ends of the tank from a common source. The flow is adjusted with
a pinch cock on a rubber hose at the right-hand end, for example, at 500 c.c. per
minute. This is done by turning the 3-way valve so as to run the water outside of the
tank through the small spout which ends at the water level just outside of the tank.
The water can be caught here in a graduate for a definite length of time and the
flow per minute determined. The flow of water at the end into which the substance is
added may be set at, say, 400 c.c., per minute and then sufficient of the solution
added to the mixing bottle from the siphon above at the left (100 e.c.) to make this
500 c.c. also. The solution of a non-volatile substance is siphoned (see Fig. 1, A)
from a dish in which is a 12-liter aspirator bottle (a) with the upper opening tightly
corked and the lower one open. When the water in the dish falls below the level of

' the lower opening a few bubbles of air slip in and the same amount of fluid flows out,
thus maintaining a constant level in the dish as long as the supply in the aspirator
bottle holds out. Volatile substances have usually been added directly from the lower
opening of the aspirator bottle. In this case it is necessary to correct the flows occa-
sionally. The solution is run into a mixing bottle (m) which is connected in the
flow of pure water. Fig. 3, B, shows a longitudinal section of the tank when a sub-
Stance is introduced at the left-hand end. The substance is shown by black markings.
The central portion shows a gradient between pure water (white) and the introduced
substance (black lines). The graphs are drawn on the basis of the position of the
fish in this longitudinal section.

104 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ide, and not only turn back upon encountering them, but are
able to recognize and orient their bodies with reference to in-
creases and decreases of such substances often present in
water.

The testing of these sensibilities of fishes has been carried
on by means of experiments performed in a gradient tank, as
shown in Fig. 3, A. Water of two kinds was used in the ex-
periments. One kind was allowed to flow into one end at a defi-
nite rate and another kind into the other end at the same rate.
The mixture flowed out at the middle, at the top and at the bot-
tom so that the two kinds of water met at the center. The out-
flow at the center did not of course prevent the mixing of the
two kinds of water in the tank and thus the middle section
(broken line area in Fig. 3, B), equal to one half or one third
of the tank, was a gradient between the two kinds of water.
The tank used in these experiments was 122.3 cm. (49 in.) by
15 cm. (6 in.) by 13 em. (514, in.) deep. The front wall was
of plate glass and a plate glass top was used at times. Water
was allowed to flow in at both ends at the same rate (usually
600 c.c. or about a pint per minute) through tee-shaped tubes,
the cross bars of which contained a number of small holes.
The cross bars of the tees were at the center of the ends of the
tank behind screens. The drain openings were located at the
center near the top and in the bottom. The outer openings of
the drain tubes were at the level of the water in the tank. The
water flowed in at the ends and drifted toward the center and
flowed out through the drains. We found no evidence that
fishes react to the slight current thus produced. Since each
half of the tank held about nine liters (914 quarts), it required
15 minutes to fill it or to replace all the water in one of the
halves. The tank was enclosed under a black hood. Two elec-
tric lights were fixed above the center of the two halves, 7. e.,
above a point midway between the screen partition and the cen-
ter drains. The light was 15-20 em. (6-8 in.) above the sur-
face of the water which was 13 cm. (51/4, in.) deep. The room
was darkened during the experiments which were observed
through openings in the hood above the lights or through the
glass side late at night. Fishes do not usually note objects
separated from them by a light.

Water differing as little as possible from that in which the
fishes usually live was used for control readings. Controls
were observed and the conditions in the two ends of these were
the same either because the water introduced at the two ends
was alike or because no water was run into either end (stand-

FORTUNES IN WASTES 105

ing water). In the control experiments the two ends of the
tank were alike and the fishes moved back and forth symmetri-
cally (Chart I., Graphs 1 and 3; Chart II., Graph 5). When
a gradient between two kinds of water was established, fishes
put into the tank tend to go back and forth and thus encounter
the experimental gradient. When the change of conditions
thus encountered was such as to affect the fishes, they usually
reacted either by turning back or by passing through the gradi-
ent into the treated water. But in the latter case they quickly
returned to the untreated water, thus spending a shorter time

1 2 3 4
CONTROL _ EXPERIMENT! CONTROL EXPERIMENT
= =
S = S pure PURE PURE SEA $
© PURE PURE & PURE GAS __& SEA SEA SEA WATERS
‘Ni WATER WATER +S WATER WASTE 4 WATER WATER x WATER 25>
a = pa Pal ae

=
S.

i 4

PHPEE PEELE PEPE perce eee

== Ss & = '

—— =e = == =

a eS = == ==

rs 3 = = J aS eS =
2 ———— L == = =
== ——— 25 ee = | =
== SSS SSW == == == =
== = = = == ==

— ———S—._ ==} — = =
SS a =55 oD =s= =s= =s
== SES 22 eel = =
=e: ==) == == =
=== 2 : :
== ———— == ===: E
=.= —— I = —— = =
as — == a == == ==
SS ert == == =

= = =<) — | = =< =
Stoo... | —— == SS =
eee == == 10
= - a SS SSS SSS SOE 7
<= 22 a eee Sy =
S= SS Se ST j = > == | = =
—— Se LS. ES =< == ==
2 — ?E == Sea) ==
a i —— =
eee =: = EE z
== == = aS SSS ES SE =
=< == = SS. SS SE =
== ae | 2=5= —15— == —15— | =

CuHArtr I. Showing the movements of fishes in the gradient tank shown in Fig. 3
(A and B). Fig. 3, B, is repeated at the beginning of each graph; where the water
was alike in the two ends it is shown clear. The kind of water is indicated above the
figure. The scales at the sides are minutes divided into ten second periods. ‘The fish
is shown in black above the beginning of each graph and headed in the direction which
the graph shows that it is moving. The back-and-forth moyvemenfs of the fish are
shown by the tracings from right to left in the graph. The length of time spent in
moving, turning around standing still is indicated by the time scales.

GrapH 1. Showing the nearly regular back and forth movement of a sunfish in
pure water.

GRAPH 2. Showing the preference of the same sunfish for water containing gas
waste and its turning back from purer water. The arrow indicates that it was driven
into pure water.

Grapu 3. Showing the nearly regular back-and-forth movement of herring in
pure sea water.

GRAPH 4. Showing the sharp avoidance of sea water containing a little HS,
after a few trials of the entire length of the tank.

106 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in the treated water. In either case they are called negative.

Several species of fish—large and small mouthed black
bass, green sunfish, blue gill, crappie, golden shiner, sucker, and
various minnows, were studied in detail. All these fishes were
slightly negative or indefinite in their reaction to water con-
taining little dissolved oxygen, 7. e., they turned back from or
ignored water of low oxygen content. All the fishes were de-
cidedly negative in their reaction to increased carbon dioxide.
The differences tried varied from 5 c.c. (4 cu. in.) to 60 c.c.
of dissolved gas per liter above that in which the fish had been
kept. When increased carbon dioxide accompanied low oxygen
the negative reaction was very marked; the fishes turned back
when the gradient was encountered and only rarely entered
the part containing the highest carbon dioxide and lowest
oxygen.

Several workers have shown that carbon dioxide is very
toxic to fish. It appears to be much more so than correspond-
ing differences (24 c.c. per liter) in oxygen content. Fishes
turn away when they encounter an increase of as little as 2 c.c.
per liter. Since a large amount of dissolved carbon dioxide is
commonly accompanied by a low oxygen content, and other im-
portant factors, the carbon dioxide content of water or more
precisely the acidity or hydrogen ions (strongly alkaline waters
excepted) is probably the best single index of the suitability
of that water for fishes. Most species probably can not live
where it exceeds 6 c.c. per liter during the breeding season.

2. Breeding Requirements of Fresh-Water Fishes.—Nearly
all fresh-water fishes deposit eggs on the bottom. It is to the
bottom that the dead bodies of organisms sink and decompose
and, accordingly, at or near the bottom that poisonous prod-
ucts of decomposition occur in greatest quantity. Decomposi-
tion of the bodies of plants and animals results finally in gases
such as ammonia, carbon dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, methane,
etc., which diffuse rather slowly to the surface and into the
atmosphere, and in blackened organic debris called humus.
Thus the extent to which the gases occur is dependent upon the
amount of decomposition and the circulation of the water. The
same processes of decomposition which result in these gases
consume oxygen and as a rule there is insufficient oxygen for
eggs and young fishes. A small addition of organic matter may
readily decrease the oxygen and raise the carbon dioxide to a
point which weakens the eggs and favors fungus.

If a body of fresh water is to support the most desirable
fishes it should have an area of clean sand, gravel or other ter-

»

FORTUNES IN WASTES 107

rigenous bottom covered by from six inches to two feet of water
and an area of emerging and submerged vegetation to supply
food. It is probable that for the best results these three areas
should be about equal. The terrigenous bottom should usually
be free from blackened débris (humus), for this usually accom-
panies decomposition. There is nothing deleterious about hu-
mus provided the material in it has passed the early decompo-
sition stages. Thus darkened bottom usually, though not al-
ways, indicates decomposition and bad conditions. Small
quantities of débris may be eaten by débris-eating animals.
The presence of gilled snails of the genera Plewrocera and
Goniobasis in fresh water indicates clean bottoms. Various
other organisms usually indicate pollution with sewage.

For many fishes an area of water more than four feet deep
is relatively unimportant. The addition of sewage and other
organic matter affects bottoms and therefore breeding condi-
tions most. The young at the time of hatching are perhaps
more sensitive than eggs, certainly more so than adults.

The destruction of breeding grounds in the Great Lakes is
credited with the depletion of the whitefish supply. In 1871
Milner dredged eggs of the lake trout together with decaying
sawdust. The eggs were attacked by fungus. In 1908 Clark
expressed the opinion that through the accumulation of slow
decaying woody material, water-logged lumber, and sewage, the
chief breeding grounds of the Great Lakes had been destroyed
and could not be recuperated. If the warning of Milner thirty-
five years earlier had been heeded, they would have been much
better than at present.

3. Relation to PollutionSewage without the addition of
industrial wastes merely consumes oxygen, and increased car-
bon dioxide and ammonia to a point where fishes can not live.
It is particularly damaging to the young on account of its de-
struction of breeding grounds and production of conditions
which can not be tolerated by newly hatched fishes. The in- ”
troduction of sewage also favors the growth of fungi which
destroy the eggs of fishes. Adult fishes usually avoid such con-
tamination and hence, except where escape is not possible, adult
fishes are not killed by it. Rivers receiving the sewage of large
cities are rendered uninhabitable to fishes by the development
of poisonous compounds just noted. The sewage of Chicago
has vendered the Illinois River uninhabitable to fishes as regu-
lar residents for a distance of over 100 miles down stream.
Some invertebrates are often able to live in rapids where sew-
age occurs because of the general aeration of the water.

108 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The resistance of different useful aquatic animals to pollut-
ing substances varies greatly, as does also that of their living
food. In the case of fish, for example, it is not sufficient to
secure for making tests any fish that may be convenient. The
tests of toxicity must of course be of a character to determine
means of affording protection to fish, but not to fish alone; the
organisms on which they feed are perhaps commonly more sen-
sitive than the fishes themselves.

The following table, based largely on the work of Dr. M.
M. Wells, gives an estimate of the relative resistance of several
widely distributed species of North American fishes. While it
needs careful verification by new methods, it will serve as a
rough provisional guide. It is based largely on death in waters
containing little oxygen and much carbon dioxide. Since fishes
rank differently in resistance according to the poison in which
they are killed, the immediate need for further investigation is
obvious.

TABLE I

Indicating the relative resistance of a very sensitive minnow and of some
common game-fishes of the eastern and central United States and of
the goldfish. The resistance of the least resistant species is
arbitrarily taken to be wnity

Relative Relative

Species of Fish Resistance Species of Fish Resistance

Labidesthes sicculus | Ambloplites rupestris

(Brook silverside)........... 1 CRoekjbass) See ones lee eee 10
Moxostoma aureolum Perca flavescens

(Red=horse) he eee eee D3} (Yellow or American perch) . 10
Catostomus commersonit Lepomis humilis

(Common sucker)........... 2.4 (Orange-spotted sunfish) .... 12
Micropterus dolomieu Carassius carassius

(Small-mouthed black bass). . 5 (Goldfish or Crucian carp). . . 12
Micropterus salmoides Lepomis cyanellus

(Large-mouthed black bass). . 6 (Blue-spotted sunfish) ...... tS
Pomozis annularis Ameiurus melas

(White erappie) ............ 8 (Black bullhead)........... 45
Pomoxis sparoides i

(Black crappie, Calico bass). . 8

Tests of the minimum quantity of poison which will prove
fatal must be made on the most sensitive stage. The strength
of a chain is the strength of its weakest link. A little has been
accomplished in the study of poisons; the most sensitive period
is not known for a single fresh water species of which the en-
tire life cycle has been definitely studied. There is only a little
information relative to fishes of different ages.

FORTUNES IN WASTES 109

TABLE II

Showing the relative resistance of different sizes of two species of fresh
water fishes. Based on work by Dr. M. M. Wells

e : Relative

Species Condition Weight Resistance
Texavel le JSS A Be Oo Str es ERO RET Re toe eet CO2 and 1.9 gram 1.00
low Os 20-40 grams 5.00
Commonishinena sain ci. a: o'- Sucks ics « CO: and 0.6 gram 1.00
low Oz 21.0 grams 3.00

The matter does not end with these biological differences but
the toxicity of different substances differs greatly.

TABLE III

Showing the relative toxicity, on a basis of weight, of different substances
when added to distilled water. The figures are only approximate,
but the great toxicity of acids and alkalies is evident. The higher
the figure the greater the toxicity of the substance. All are
compared with common salt, which is taken as 100 based

Animals Poison | Relative Poison Relative Poison fe
Tested | Effect Effort Effect
Fresh- ‘Common salt . a 100 |Calcium acid sul- Magnesium sulfate 15
water ‘Hydrochloric fite ...........,10,000 Ammonium sulfate 400
fishes HEACLGE ery 2 a: 40,400 |Potass'um chloride 50|Sodium nitrate... 454
(based on Sulfuric acid ...| 15,000 |Calcium chloride.. 59 |Calcium nitrate... 118
amount |Nitric acid..... 23,000 |Barium chloride. . 60 |Magnesium nitrate 105
required |Carboniec acid..| 3,700|Magnesium chlor- Ammonium nitrate 232
to kill in 'Slaked lime....| 15,000] ide............ 77
45 min. |Ammonia......|30,000]Ammonium chlor-
to 3 hrs.):Calcium sulfite .} 22,000] ide............ 300

The great toxicity of acids is evident. The addition of acid
to water containing carbonate is accompanied by the liberation
of CO, and though its toxicity is only about one tenth that of
mineral acids, it may be released in quantities very harmful to
fishes. In all such cases the precise hydrogen ion concentration
should be determined. Limestone is often used to neutralize
acid, sometimes to doubtful advantage.

Just after the beginning of the European war the writer
undertook the investigation of the effects of wastes from the
manufacture of illuminating gas upon fishes. This form of
pollution is common in the streams and is probably one of the
most important on account of the extremely poisonous charac-
ter of the coal tar compounds. The most valuable compounds
are most poisonous. Benzene, xylene, toluene are used in mak-

110 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ing explosives and hence of much value, and at the same time
they are the most poisonous compounds occurring in the wasted
gas liquor in the gas plants. These substances are usually re-
ferred to as insoluble and hence likely to be regarded as not
of importance in causing the death of fishes. All, however, are
slightly soluble in distilled or ordinary stream water. The
amount going into solution readily kills the best food fishes
in a few minutes. Tarry material holds much of these sub-
stances in solution and continually gives it off. Carbon mon-
oxide is one of the most poisonous substances in gas and re-
mains in standing water exposed to the air and continues to
kill fishes for weeks. Naphthalene (moth balls) is extremely
poisonous, commonly called insoluble, but is soluble enough to
kill fishes very quickly. Representatives of nearly all the
groups of compounds found in coal tar and gas liquor are deadly
to fishes and 90 per cent. of the deadly compounds do not repel
fishes (Chart I., Graph 2). When they encounter these com-
pounds, they do not turn back but swim into them. Afterward
on encountering pure water they turn back into the poison
though it causes death within a few minutes. Mixtures of the
compounds are equally or more deadly. Gas liquors, tar “ drip”
from the pipes are very toxic, 2-40 parts per million kill the
more hardy species of fish in an hour. The wholesale destruc-
tion of fishes by these wastes occurs at times especially during
cold winters. The remedy for this is the complete recovery of
all coal products.

4. Examples of Destruction of Fresh-Water Fishes.—In
January, 1916, in a small river below a town of 50,000 inhab-
itants large numbers of dead fishes appeared at breaks in the
ice. Others in a half intoxicated state were caught through
holes in the ice. Three thousand pounds of fish were caught in
three days but could not be eaten because of a bad taste said to
resemble gas waste. The case was investigated by the Illinois
Water Survey. The death of the fish according to their report
was due to lack of oxygen and poisoning due to stream pollu-
tions, brought about by sluggish flow and heavy ice cover which
prevented aeration. A similar occurrence with less destruction
of fish was investigated by the same bureau but the destruction
was less, probably due to gas waste not being present as in the
first case.

Another case investigated by the writer occurred in a large
creek when covered with ice. Fishes in a half intoxicated con-
dition came to holes cut in the ice. Many fishes were taken but
proved inedible because of a bad taste. When the ice went out

FORTUNES IN WASTES 111

Fic. 4. Fishes common in the Calumet River before sewage was introduced.
The upper fish in the foreground is a young large mouthed black bass. The central
fish is a half-grown blue-spotted sunfish and the bottom fish is a small perch.

dead fishes were numerous, including carp, large and small
mouthed black-bass, crappies, and sunfishes. The bullheads
were the only ones which were not killed. There was a bright
iridescent film under the ice and an odor of coal gas. This point
is 25 miles below a community of 25,000 with a gas plant that
pumps gas liquor on to the ground where it gets into the drain-
age sewers and into the stream. The point where the fishes
were killed is a state fish preserve with special penalties for
anything but very restricted fishing! The gas plant which is
probably to be credited with destroying the fish did not recover
anything but the heavy tar. The valuable hydrocarbons, am-
monia, etc., are wasted. The destruction of fishes by industrial
waste has been common throughout the country, especially
within the past thirty or forty years. The fishes destroyed in-
clude those which occurred in commercial numbers, such as
shad, salmon and whitefish and numerous game fishes such as
perch, black-bass and sunfishes shown in Fig. 4. These disap-
peared in the Calumet River for a long distance below the point
ef introduction of sewage. Mussels (Fig. 5) survived in the
rapids (Fig. 6) only a mile below the entrance of a large sewer.
This is possible probably on account of the aeration of the
water. The treatment of sewage with compressed air in the
presence of activated sludge is effective in reducing its toxicity
to fishes.

112 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 5. Mussel shells on the bank of the Calumet showing the work of the pearl
hunters. They were taken from the rapids shown below in Fig. 6. The mussels have
survived the sewage which enters a mile above, probably because of the aeration at
this point.

Fic. 6. Showing the Calumet River at the point mentioned above. The log in
the foreground is blackened with sewage.

III. MARINE FISHES

1. Their Needs

Marine fishes are comparatively less resistant than fresh-
water fishes to the products of decomposition in salt water

FORTUNES IN WASTES 113

which results in carbon dioxide and hydrogen sulfide. On the
whole the presence of a small quantity of carbon dioxide (low-
ered alkalinity) in the water affects the fishes less than a smaller
amount of hydrogen sulfide. The combination of hydrogen
sulfide and carbon dioxide was most rapidly fatal. Since decom-
position yields carbon dioxide, consumes oxygen, and is accom-
panied by the production of hydrogen sulfide which also con-
sumes oxygen, it is reasonable to suppose that on a bottom from
which vegetation is absent and decomposition actively takes
place, a fatal combination of lack of oxygen, and presence of
hydrogen sulfide and probably carbon dioxide can develop
quickly. In enclosed arms of the sea when circulation is cut
off in the summer, oyster beds are sometimes killed by the pres-
ence of quantities of hydrogen sulfide. The destruction of fishes
is probably not common, however, because of their negative
reaction to it.

2. Reactions of Marine Fishes

A. Hydrogen Sulphide.—Herring turn back sharply from all
concentrations of hydrogen sulphide not great enough to cause
intoxication (Chart I., Graph 4). They avoid it sharply and
turned about at a point where the concentration was equal to
that under the Ulva on the sandy bottoms of a bay. The con-
trols (Chart I., Graph 3, and Chart II., Graph 5) of these ex-
periments are symmetrical, there being turnings from each end
in about equal numbers. It shows the reaction of the fishes
when no stimuli are encountered in the tank.

B. Salinity and Hydrogen Ion Concentration.—The fresh
water supply of the Puget Sound Biological Station, when the
experiments were performed, was from deep wells. It was very
alkaline, containing no free carbon dioxide and only 0.5 c.c. per
liter of oxygen. This water was aerated, which raised the oxy-
gen to 4.8 c.c. per liter. This water was run into one end of
the gradient tank and sea water into the other. In the experi-
mental tank the difference between the density of the fresh and
salt water was so great that the fresh water extended nearly
to the opposite end at the top with very little mixing and the
salt water occupied a corresponding place on the bottom. Thus
there was a sharp gradient from top to bottom, but a very im-
perfect one from end to end. To avoid this difficulty a screen
inclined cage was used (see headings of Graphs 6 and 7, Chart
II.). The fish moved back and forth in this at a distance of
about 4 cm. from the lower screen. The gradient of salinity
between the acid sea water and the alkaline fresh water was

voL 1x.—8.

1l4 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

essentially perfect as shown in Chart II., Graphs 6 and 7; the
oxygen content was essentially the same throughout. The salin-
ity in the salt water end was two thirds that of normal salt
water and one third in the fresh water end. Phenolphthalein
indicator showed that the central region had about the hydro-
gen ion concentration of sea water (pH 8.0). It appears from

5 6 Ze a
CONTROL -EXPERIMENT EXPERIMENT * EXPERIMENT
2 pe = LESS MORE \= >
S uRe & ) \S S =
2 sea 4 on Pas AOR. ,'2 ACIDITY NEARLY EQUAL 2 e553 356A “kyon
S “waTeR * WATER S WATER WATER. _AT ENDS Sarvcen “ATER oxvcen,S
m a “met Srey SS
Al all <-= 5S SS i BIC)
¥- HE ae w2 o- a. A
Set real a = == == ———— =|
=— ———— = = == = —— =
SS eee == = Ea = =}
= SS 12 z= SS I
2 — | She i S
i =rS oe = —_———— =p
= nes SESS — Sts == mS =f
= = —— = = pera = iS | = we
SS == == Nt Ba
a a = SS SS
SS = = le ES a) a
SS ee =.= = eee
Sa IB == Sy
=e SSS = = = SSS ee |
=— —— = SSS = =
es SIS = = = ee ==
———— = ae 2 = =|
SS Se — ss SSS SSS —
= 2 —— $$$ = == == 2 = a
= = = = _———— ==
SS ee ee == a
= a EE == a
es a = ='= ee =
== a= =105 = = I5
= EE = il =_= == ==
== SS SSE SS == = —— 2
SS —— EE 7 —— [es
=ye Te ree = == ————
2 SSS SSS SSS == == I= = =
SS ee — aS == |
= Sa eee aaa = SSS
= =e] ==: == =\\= —————— ey —
== ee ae 22) See
= = — == ———— = = Spe ———— aa
Ss ey a =—— = Sj =s) (= ——. — =
a ———) J=45= —— == == = ue
ACIDITY NEARLY EQUAL’ a i
£QU MORE| ALKALINE , :

_AT ENDS. ACID’ i

CuArT II. For general remarks see Chart I.

GRAPH 5. Showing the regular back-and-forth movement of a herring in pure

water.
GRAPHS 6 AND 7. Showing the selection of a less acid water and the shifting of

the position of the fish from the left to the right hand end as the acidity slowly
changed. In this case the herring selected the alkaline fresh water, ignoring the salt
which is important to marine animals. The fish was confined between inclined screens
because of the difference in density of fresh and salt water.

GrapH 8, Showing the selection of water with most oxygen by a herring.

a number of experiments that the herring selected either brack-
ish or quite alkaline water (pH above 8.0).

To determine whcther or not this peculiarity is a reaction
to salinity or alkalinity, the experiment with herring was re-
peated and carbon dioxide to which the fish are negative run
in the fresh water, to neutralize the alkalinity. At the begin-
ning of the experiment shown in Chart II., Graph 6, the carbon
dioxide content of the fresh water was 26.5 c.c. per liter (prob-

FORTUNES IN WASTES 115

ably about neutral pH 7.0) and the reaction was very sharply
negative to fresh water. The concentration of the carbon diox-
ide in the fresh water was gradually lowered and the avoidance
fell off, as is shown in Graph 7, which was really only a con-
tinuation of Graph 6 interrupted to take a sample which showed
the carbon dioxide content to be 8.1 c.c. per liter. During the
period represented by Graph 6 the negative reaction decreased
gradually until a point was reached when the tank was prob-
ably about the same throughout, after which the fish became
negative to the sea water at the end of 13 minutes, when on
the basis of a uniform decrease, the sea water, which often has
an hydrogen ion concentration somewhat greater than “nor-
mal” sea water which the herring usually prefers, became more
acid than the fresh. Thus it appears that these fish are as sen-
sitive to acidity as litmus paper. The young hump-backed sal-
mon reacted similarly. They had just left fresh water and
were caught at sea.

The relation of the two species of fishes to salinity is inter-
esting in this connection as they ignored enormous differences
entirely and reacted only to acidity and alkalinity (the herring
being able to recognize the difference between pH 8.0 and 8.1).
The salmon goes into fresh water to breed and some may reach
maturity there or they may return to salt water at varying
ages. The orientation of these specimens with head in the fresh
water is of interest but it was evident that it was with refer-
ence to acidity and alkalinity (hydrogen ion concentration)
rather than salinity. Sea water is less acid than the fresh
water of salmon streams and the reactions of the salmon ac-
cord with their recent entrance into salt water.

The oxygen in the sea water in use at the station never
reached saturation. One experiment was tried with water
drawn directly from the tap, against water aerated by running
over a board. The fishes selected the aerated water; the pref-
erence (Chart II., Graph 8) for the higher oxygen content was
decided.

The resistance of different species of marine fishes differs
as it does in the case of fresh-water fishes. Table IV. shows
the relative resistance of several Pacific coast species.

TABLE IV

Showing the relative resistance of several species of Pacific Coast fishes
Mypomesus pretiosus (Surf smelt) <....:.....ccccceccess
een USTD PULICEPEIT Fol ai cs seo che qa gaan ne ns cme 5 By
Cymatogaster aggregatus (Viviparous perch) ............ 6
Psettichthys melanostictus (Flat fish) ................... 18

116 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

3. The Breeding Requirements of Marine Fishes

The importance of factors which kill fishes is greatest in
the early stages for three reasons. First, the small size of the
eggs and embryos makes the ratio between volume and surface
smallest and thus any substance in solution will reach all parts
of the organism at a most rapid rate. Secondly, the inability
of the eggs and embryos to move about makes them the easy
victims of any adverse conditions that may occur. Thirdly,
the resistance of the eggs to fatal concentrations of poison de-
creases to the time of hatching, being least then and rising
as the fish grows larger. The eggs of the herring are depos-
ited on the bottom. Nelson mentions rocks only and rocks are
usually swept fairly clear of organic matter and the water well
aerated down to the depth of one fathom where the fishes breed.
If this means that sandy bottoms of bays are avoided, it prob-

Fic. 7. Showing the life history of the European herring in the form of a circle,
about a chain of links of differing strength. The weakest link is shown opposite the
young at hatching but it is not known whether it should be here or at some near by
point. The adults are weaker during the breeding season.

FORTUNES IN WASTES 117

ably includes the avoidance, during breeding, of water contain-
ing much hydrogen sulfide which would be fatal to small her-
ring fry to a greater degree than to those studied, which were
6 cm. long. Sensitiveness to hydrogen sulfide is a matter of
much importance from the standpoint of the suitability of a
given arm of the sea for herring and the influence upon fishes
of contamination of the shores with refuse from the land.
Acidity is not great in such shallow water on account of the
absorption of CO, by the numerous plants for photosynthesis.
However this does not prevent the development of much acidity
at night. The eggs of nearly all marine organisms that have
been studied require alkaline medium (pH above 7.0) for de-
velopment. This has been demonstrated, for sea urchins, star-
fishes and plaice.

In the case of marine animals as in the case of fresh water
ones there is a most sensitive stage. For fatal doses this falls
at some time in the early free swimming stages or about the
time of hatching. In the case of weaker concentration the
youngest developmental stages of the egg appear to be most
easily injured and rendered abnormal, which is often quite as
detrimental to the species as fatal doses. Both types of effect
are shown below in Table V. The life history of any animal
may be represented as an endless chain (Fig. 7).

TABLE V

Showing differences in sensitivity of various stages of several marine
animals. Most sensitive stage rated as 1. No basis for a
comparison of the species. Based chiefly on the work
of Prof. Child and of Whitley on plaice eggs

Species | Poison Relative Resistance of Different Stages | Criterion
SUDTIIA Ae ee | KCN Unfertilized egg .......... 9.00 |
Blastula to gastrula....... 1.00 | Fatal dose
Young bipinnaria......... 2.00
SBA -UIEGCHATE 55 icterioks, Susi = KCN Unfertilized ere) .. 2.5.63... 3.88
Barly, 2astrulswcec. oc ssc < 1.00 ae
Preplugeustisraac crac tte cee 150
Clam-worm ........ | KCN 2-4) cell stage? ssi. fo ons 18.00
Larva with 2 pairs of sete. 1.00; “
Advanced larva........... 3.30
emineHo +s... Phenyl | 2-cell stage............... 6.00 |
urethane) |iatching? ss s.ise. -io.i woe 1.00 |
Tautogolabrus...... Phenyl | 15 min. after fertilization .. 43.00 |
| urethane | Heart beating............ 1.00 | s
Newly hatched ........... 1.25 |
Plaice eggs......... Acid Hireqha lal Geese tae cle cc cae ak 1.00 Unsuccessful
Acid 1Oidagwoldeis ioe. sarah. 10.00} development
Plaice eggs ......... Alkali Fresh-laid................ 1.00] Unsuccessful
Alkali PONG AVRVOIGE aa etaers iso xmas 2.00 development

118

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Different inorganic substances differ greatly in their tox-
icity to marine animals; acids are much more toxic to marine
than to fresh water animals.

TABLE VI

Showing the relative toxicity—on a basis of weight—of different sub-

stances in distilled water.
is evident.
substance.

The great toxicity of acids and alkalies

The higher the figure the greater the toxicity of the
All are compared with common salt, which is

taken as 100. Based on the work of Prof. A. P. Mathews

> = Relative Relative

Animals Tested Poison Effect Poison Effect
Marine Fun- | Common salt.......... 100 | Strontium chloride.... 53
dulus eggs Hydrochloric acid......| 249,500 | Sodium sulfate........ 97
(based on Potassium chloride. .... 70 | Sodium nitrate....... 69
least fatal Calcium chloride....... 185 | Potassium nitrate .... 38
dose) Barium chloride ....... 56 | Sodium hydroxide....} 14,610
Magnesium chloride... . 113 | Potassium hydroxide. . 6,200

Ammonium cbhloride.... 88

Barium hydroxide.... 8,100

The sea water has an extraordinary capacity to neutralize
acid. A liter of sea water will almost neutralize a liter of one
five-hundredth normal acid and thus the toxicity of acid as
shown in the table for pure water is greatly exaggerated as
compared with additions to the sea.

4. Examples of the Effect of Pollution, etc.

(a) Herring.—By the method just described it is possible
to obtain unusually accurate data on the factors influencing the
movements of fishes. According to Marsh and Cobb a great
difficulty in the herring fishery of the north Pacific coast is the
erratic movements of the fish. Schools may visit a bay for three
or four years, in succession, and then, without any apparent
reason, avoid it for a season or two altogether. Bertham noted
a possible relation between the abundance of these fishes and
weather and suggests that climatic causes may have more to do
with the failure of some branches of the fisheries than is gen-
erally believed. He attributed the failure of the fisheries of
Cape Benton to the occurrence of severe east and northeast
storms during the running season. It is clear that such storms
may affect the dissolved content of the water by raising decom-
posing matter from the bottom. The English investigator
Johnstone has said that it is now nearly certain that the shoal-
ing migrations of the herring of Europe are to be associated
with the salinity and temperature of the sea, but it is evident
from the experiments described above that acidity and alka-

FORTUNES IN WASTES 119

linity are more important than salinity and the solution of the
problem will come from a careful study of the reactions of fishes
along with a similar study of conditions in the sea.

The extreme sensitiveness of the fishes studied, as shown
by their detection of slight deviations from neutrality, of small
fractions of a cubic centimeter per liter of hydrogen sulfide,
etc., makes it very clear that there is no difficulty in fishes de-
termining the direction to large rivers from hundreds of miles
out at sea or of finding their way into any bay or harbor or
river or other arm of the sea which their particular physiolog-
ical condition at a given time demands. It is not necessary to
appeal to “instinct” to explain the return of certain salmon
to certain rivers, or the running of herring in certain localities.
The mere fact of their origin in the region, the probably lim-
ited tendency to leave it coupled with their ability to detect and
follow slight difference in water is a sufficient explanation of
all their peculiar migrations. The close way in which animals
stay about certain localities from generation to generation is
hardly appreciated. Thus, as Johnstone points out, the herring
of the east coast of Britain are largely local, having formerly
been assumed to belong to shoals that came from distant points.

The experimental method can not of course determine the
cause for the absence of fishes from any given point but must
be accompanied by hydrographic studies. Such combined ef-
forts give trustworthy results. Hydrographic studies alone
may lead to entirely erroneous assumptions because of the lack
of knowledge of the sensibilities of the fishes concerned and the
selection of some insignificant factor correlated with their ab-
sence or presence, as an explanation. Such correlates, offered
as explanations, become the basis of erroneous remedial
measures.

Noting the remarkable discriminations of fishes for differ-
ences in alkalinity, acidity and neutrality, a note of warning
may be sounded in regard to the relation of pollution to runs
of herring. The avoidance of the decomposition products is a
sufficient explanation of the absence in valuable numbers of
many other fishes. Their tendency to avoid acid waters, hydro-
gen sulfide, etc., which result from decomposition and are in-
creased by the presence of refuse of fish canneries, sewage, etc.,
makes diversion of such refuse from the sea an important con-
sideration. The Baltic towns of the Hanseatic League were
dependent in part upon the herring industry and after a cen-
tury of great growth and prosperity fell into decline at the
middle of the fourteenth century. Their prosperity was the

120 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

accompaniment of the presence of great shoals of herring off
the Island of Riigen in the Baltic. Their decline was caused in
part by the failure of the herring industry and the supposed
migration of the herring to the North Sea which has since been
the center of the industry. Schouwen (on the Netherland
coast of the North Sea) appears in the fourteenth century to
have been frequented by the herring shoals in preference to
Riigen. The rapid growth of the Netherland cities, their su-
premacy and final separation from the Hanseatic league fol-
lowed. A little later the herring again changed their haunts,
choosing the coast of Norway, where both Norsemen and Neth-
erlanders caught them. The Beukelszoon method of curing her-
ring having come into use, nearness to home was no longer a
necessity. The Norse fisheries flourished until 1587, when an
“apparition of a gigantic herring frightened the shoals away.”
Thus it appears that the development of the herring industry
in each locality led to desertion of the locality by the fish, though
the migrations assumed by historians are doubtful. Was this
due to the contamination of the sea by the cities, or merely to
over catch? Whichever may have been the case it is certain
that contamination will not invite runs of the herring.

(b) Cod.—The cod eggs are pelagic and usually deposited
in December or during the winter. The development takes
place in the shore waters. The reduction of the cod supply of
New England was associated with the building of dams across
all the principal rivers and was attributed to the shutting out
of the alewives, salmon and shad which were important articles
of diet of the cod. It is far more likely that the construction
of large factories which poured refuse into the sea destroyed
the eggs through the lowering of alkalinity which prevents
development.

IV. PRESENT DAY PROBLEMS AND THE WAR

The present great increase in manufactures and the exces-
sively cold winter of 1917-18 with sluggish flow of streams
may be expected to decrease available food fishes in inland
waters. Industries using coal, gas plants, etc., are throwing
much waste into streams which will destroy fish, not because
they do not appreciate its value, but because being unprepared
for peace they are unprepared for war.

Recently the gas company in the city of X with 25,000 inhab-
itants could not work up certain of its gas by-products and was
storing them in reservoirs. If a market has not opened, this
will find its way into the nearby stream. There was at the out-

FORTUNES IN WASTES 121

break of the war no adequate market for coal, oil or water gas
by-products. We have been and are still destroying or throw-
ing away our most valuable coal-gas by-products. Material for
munitions in enormous quantities were cast into our streams
to bring untold destruction to fresh-water fishes before the war
began. Until very recently under the pressure of the war there
was no attempt to save these gas by-products from the smaller
plants. Since interest in the by-products is increasing, many
plants have attempted to save more than tar. Most of the small
plants are entirely unadapted to save anything but heaviest tar
and gas. The rest, with its innumerable valuable dyes, drugs,
flavoring substances and explosives, is still cast into streams to
kill fishes! Shortly before the war less than 25 per cent. of the
coal coked in the United States was coked under conditions of
complete recovery of all products. Now the percentage has
increased to about fifty.

In the study of effects of pollutions on useful aquatic ani-
mals there has been too little in the way of clear statements of
the problems involved. Under the pressure of the questions
brought forward by the war, the writer has formulated the
following nine questions involved in the solution of pollution
problems.

1. In the study of the effects of pollutions test animals must
be used. Is the animal selected one of representative sensitive-
ness? The tables on fishes (pp. 108 and 115) show the need of
care in selecting test animals. The common suckers are recom-
mended as suitable fresh-water animals for tests. They are
widely distributed, easy to obtain, easy to recognize, and are
representatively sensitive. It is also comparatively easy to de-
termine accurately when an individual is dead. Dr. Powers
found that to touch the tip of the tail of a fish to acid would
determine whether or not it was dead. Herring are represen-
tatively sensitive marine fishes.

2. What is the most sensitive stage in the life history?
(See pp. 109 and 117.)

3. When is the pollution most concentrated?

In fresh water, pollution will, as a rule, be most concen-
trated during seasons of drought or in extreme low water in
winter; but to this rule there are many exceptions. Pollutions
which float will do most damage during storms or high winds.
This source of danger is greatest in the sea. Ice in winter pre-
vents aeration and hinders circulation, and seems to have been
responsible in Illinois for important losses of fish due to pollu-
tion. Many poisons are more toxic at high temperature than
at low.

122 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

4, What is the toxicity of untreated polluting effluents; of
each residual of processes of partial recovery; or of treatment
by additions to the effluent? This can be determined by exten-
sive experimentation only.

5. Do animals turn back from the polluting substance and
thus escape destruction, or do they swim into it and die? (See
p. 105.)

The acids from munition works have attracted attention of
late. An effluent composed of 0.13 to 0.4 per cent. of acid—a
mixture of 2 parts of sulfuric acid and 1 part of nitric acid—is
discharged by guneotton works. This acid effluent flowing into
the brackish waters of the coast of New Jersey repelled the
killifishes, on which the keeping down of mosquitoes depends.
It was proposed to treat the acid effluent with lime, and the
question of the effect of the calcium nitrate on marine fishes
became a problem for immediate solution. A number of tests
of herring and viviparous perch in the summer of 1918 showed
that they are attracted by the calcium nitrate. Similar prob-
lems are arising in connection with inland rivers. Large quan-
tities of such acid is now being run into the Sangamon River
by munition works at Springfield, Ill., and into various other
waters of that State.

6. Do polluting substances cover the bottom and make con-
ditions unfavorable for eggs?

The majority of important fresh-water animals—mussels,
which furnish pear] for buttons, whitefish, bass, sunfish, ete.—
are dependent on the bottom for breeding, living conditions or
food. If the contaminating substances are covering breeding
bottoms of bare sand and gravel they are dangerous to fishes.

7. If the supply of useful animals is depleted will recovery
be rapid or slow?

Petersen and Jensen found that if the flora and fauna were
removed from marine bottoms useful animals such as oysters
can not again live on them until a series or succession of plants
and animals has prepared the way. The same is true of fishes
in fresh water. A body of water deprived of all its vegetation,
with the associated animals, requires much time for recovery.
It is not simply the useful animals that must be taken into con-
sideration, but the entire association of plants and animals.

8. Can correct decisions be reached without investigation
of individual cases which arise?

Decisions relative to all the preceding points must usually
be reached on the ground. Waters differ in their capacity to
neutralize the effects of effluents, in the maximum and minimum

FORTUNES IN WASTES 123

flow, and in their dissolved content. Samples of water should
be taken with reference to the particular animal-problem in
hand.

9. What is the real value of the waste when the amount of
the damage which it causes is added to its commercial value?

One continually hears it said that the recovery of this or
that waste product does not pay; this is an all-sufficient reason
for not recovering it and the matter is usually dismissed forth-
with. We need an entirely new view-point, and a new system
of bookkeeping. The value of any waste product is its com-
mercial value, when properly recovered, plus the amount of loss
it occasions when unrecovered. Practically all kinds of waste
may be made into something useful. Why is it not recovered?
I attempted to answer this question when asked by myself of
a widely known consulting engineer the other day, by saying
that it would not pay. He remarked that, in his experiences,
this is not the answer. The manufacturers more often do not
care to spend any energy in dealing with the matter. Their
object is to do the primary thing in hand and to get rid of the
by-products as easily as possible. Here a sense of obligation
to act in the interest of the public is needed. It has been esti-
mated that the sewage of ninety-seven cities of more than 50,-
000 inhabitants, treated by the Miles process, would yield per
year as follows:

IGEEMIZET te. Henle le oe eos EMS 97,393,680 tons.
PRATT OVI Neh oe cel oats ato Sielbsleienena slate ele 4,869,684 tons.
CGRCASO Priycropc yah okie eis sicieys sisi ciee ots) Labspert ore 25,780,680 tons.
Re TA NP BI bia Sas of (ahs (a, of 2h 9x0) ohh sacbsiriny's 1,289,039 tons.

Recovery plants have not been installed, however, because
critics ofthe conservation plan maintained that the profits will
be less than its friends have predicted. As has been true in
most other cases, calculations of the cost of suitable recovery
plants and of the value of recovered products have probably
been made with only minor regard to public health, and with
little reference to the damage which the remaining effluent may
do to fishes. In correct calculations the value of the recovered
products and the benefits to public health would both be re-
garded as credits. The dangers to fisheries from the residual
acid effluent can probably be turned to benefits if sulfur dioxide
is used and the residual effluents aerated before being turned
into the streams.

Aside from these nine questions which are a basis for the
determination of a policy for biologists generally and for fish-
eries men in particular, the legal situation relative to stream

124 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pollutions is peculiar. In most cases there are adequate laws
to prevent the contamination of streams, but when the state
goes into court with a complaint the offender usually says,
“Tell us how to dispose of our refuse without polluting the
streams and we will be glad to do so.” He usually is sustained
by the court, in continuing the nuisance until the complainant
has shown how it can be done. In case of most misdemeanors
the offender has to invent his own means of stopping the of-
fense, but, in these cases, the state must discover it for him.

A similar condition is found in the consultation of engineers
and biologists. The biologist complains of the ill effects of pol-
lution. The engineer says, “ Tell us what must be done to save the
fishes and we will do it, otherwise we must ignore them.” Here,
as in the case of legal matters, the responsibility falls on the
biologist, and in a large measure where it belongs, as the final
test of all methods of treating or recovering polluting substances
lies in the effects of the results on animals. These effects must
be determined by experimental study. The time is at hand
when fresh-water biologists must perform the experiments,
discover the fundamental facts and be able to answer all these
questions correctly. For sewage disposal both the Miles and the
activated sludge processes afford promising points of attack.
The wastage of many industrial residues is likely to be dis-
couraged in future, but there is always something left to be
turned into streams and the biologist must be at hand to deter-
mine the condition of fisheries and other biological interests in
respect to them. Soon public opinion will demand these meas-
ures; eventually the battle for the fishes will be won, and when
we are advised to eat fish we will be able to find them near at
hand.

OUR IRON-CLAD CIVILIZATION 125

OUR IRON-CLAD CIVILIZATION

By Professor R. H. WHITBECK
UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN

MEAGER RESOURCES OF EARLY CENTERS OF CIVILIZATION

UR civilization is inherited from peoples who grew up in

Southwestern Asia and the Mediterranean lands, re-

gions singularly destitute of mineral wealth. Here intellectual
progress far outran material progress.

The power of thought reached as great a height 2,500 years
ago as it has ever attained. The scope of the mind’s activities
has broadened with the accumulation of knowledge but its crea-
tive power is not greater. The masters of to-day write no
better literature, think no loftier thoughts, build no nobler
buildings than the masters of the ancient world.

The intellectual achievements of man, as distinguished from
his material achievements, find expression in the products of
thought, in poetry, philosophy, religion, literature. Such at-
tainments, depending mainly upon the creative power of the
human mind, are possible in any environment which is friendly
to physical and mental vigor. The essential qualities of genius
may develop in an environment of meager material resources,
as they did in Egypt, Babylonia, Palestine, Phcenicia and still
more notably in Greece. In fact, all these centers of human
development were in regions relatively poor in natural re-
sources. The flood-plains were agriculturally rich, but Pales-
tine, Phoenicia and Greece were poor. Italy was by no means
a rich land.

MATERIAL ASPECTS OF CIVILIZATION GOVERNED BY KIND OF
MATERIALS AVAILABLE

But with the material expressions of civilization the situa-
tion is different; in each country they are governed by the ma-
terials which are available. Such sculpture as Greece produced
was possible only in a superlatively gifted people; but sculpture
never could attain high perfection in any land where pure white
marble was unknown. Marble is found in nearly every coun-
try, but marble of such whiteness and texture, such freedom
from the slightest flaw, such velvety softness and translucence

126 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of luster was found only in the quarries of Greece. The peer-
less marble did not produce Greek sculpture—Greek genius did
that; the marble simply made it possible. Absolutely no other
stone has the combination of qualities which could lure man
on to such achievements. The resources included in the geo-
graphical environment of a people, or readily obtainable by
them, supply the materials in which genius embodies its dreams.
If parian marble is a part of the environment, it becomes pos-
sible for genius to express itself in sculpture; the environment
does not decree that man shall do great things in marble, it
decrees only that he may. The environment is permissive, not
mandatory.

STONE A MATERIAL OF RESTRICTED UTILITY

Man has had to evolve his architecture and make his tools
and weapons by using the materials which he could get and
could work. Wood, stone and the metals have been the mate-
rials at his disposal. Great achievements could not be exe-
cuted in wood; it is too weak and too perishable. Stone is
enduring, but it lends itself to a limited number of uses—
mainly buildings and other structures. The Romans, master
builders and road makers, accomplished wonders in the one
enduring material which they had in abundance—stone. There
is no reason to doubt that the Egyptians and the Romans would
have done great things in metals if they had had them in suffi-
cient quantities.

Stupendous as are the pyramids, the temples of Karnak or
the Great Wall of China; veritable “frozen music” as are the
medieval cathedrals, the fact remains that they are passive,
stationary objects challenging man’s admiration and venera-
tion; they are not mechanisms that multiply his efficiency, his
power of production, or his power of further achievement.
Had the materials at the service of the human race been only
those in kind and quantity which the Mediterranean peoples
had at their command, the story of mankind would have been
so utterly unlike the story as it is, that it would not seem to be
the record of the same world.

EARTH’S CRUST SUPPLIES ONLY TWO METALS IN ABUNDANCE

Eight chemical elements' make up 98 per cent. of the earth’s

1 Oxygen ..... 47.13 Eeenys Gt sa 4.71 Sodium ....268
Silicon ...... 27.89 Calcium ..... 3.53 Magnesium. 2.64
Aluminum ... 8.13 Potassium ...2.35 (Kemp. Ec. Geol.

1:699)

OUR IRON-CLAD CIVILIZATION 127

crust, but only two of these are metals of sufficient abundance
to act as a directing influence in the world’s material progress.
They are iron, which forms over four and one half per cent.
ef the crust of the earth, and aluminum which forms over 8
per cent. None of the other metals forms as much as one tenth
of one per cent. of the earth’s crust.? Gold, copper, tin, silver,
lead serve many purposes which could not be so well served by
any other known substances, yet exhaustion of any one of them
would soon be followed by a readjustment which would leave
the modern world very much as it is now. Only two metals,
then, aluminum and iron, are abundant enough to be really
determining factors in directing civilization in its material
aspects; and aluminum has not become such a factor, partly be-
cause the metal can not be separated cheaply from its most
aboundant compounds.

So accustomed have we become to the use of iron and steel
for a multitude of uses that it scarcely occurs to us to ask—
“Suppose iron had been a rare metal in the crust of the
earth, as rare as gold or platinum, what then?” Suppose in
the outworking of chemical and geological processes in the
earth, iron, because of its high specific gravity, had been con-
fined to the interior of our sphere, far from the reach of man!
and suppose gold, or copper, or lead, had been so abundant as
to force itself into man’s operations in some such way as iron
has done! As things have worked out, the material side of our
present civilization is notably built up on iron. Iron possesses
a marvelous range of possibilities which qualify it to serve a
host of purposes which can not be served so well by anything
else. From iron or steel are made the revolutionizing mech-
anisms or machines which have utterly changed the course of
human history, mechanisms which in their various parts de-
mand a combination of qualities of strength, elasticity, con-
ductivity, high fusing point, rigidity, weight, or hardness which
no other metal possesses.

THE EVER-INCREASING DOMINANCE OF IRON AND STEEL

And so we think, if we take the trouble to consider the mat-
ter, “How fortunate that such an indispensable metal is the
second most abundant one in the crust of the earth!” Indis-
pensable? Yes, in the sort of civilization which we are born
into and which we account to be the best because it is ours.

2 Certain metals such as calcium, magnesium, sodium and potassium

exceed this amount, but they are seldom used except in their compounds
and for chemical purposes.

128 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fairly reliable historical records reach back 6,000 years.
The men who built the Great Wall of China or the pyramids,
or the Taj Mahal; the men who wrote the epics and chiseled
the statuary of Greece; the men who founded the great reli-
gions and philosophies that have gripped the world; the men
who made the Roman eagles and Roman law and discipline
irresistible—carried these aspects of civilization to limits which
possibly lie even beyond our attainments in these lines in the
twentieth century; yet among these men iron was almost a
rarity. Its chief use was for weapons of war.

As a matter of fact, iron has held a commanding position
only acentury. In 1740 its yearly production, even in Europe,
did not exceed two pounds per capita. During the present
war, its production reached 800 pounds per capita in the United
States. The extensive use of iron is by no means an essential
of either a high or a powerful civilization. Yet it is the one
thing above everything else which has directed the course and
dominated the character of the present epoch on its material
side.

ONLY A SMALL FRACTION OF THE WORLD HAS ABUNDANT IRON
AND COAL

While iron is the second most abundant metal in the crust of
the earth, the particular geo-chemical processes by which it has
been concentrated in beds of high grade have occurred in
relatively few places. Five sixths of the iron ore mined at
present comes from small portions of four countries, the United
States, Germany, England and France. There are four or five
other known areas? with valuable deposits. Yet all these de-
posits, if brought together, could be included within the borders
of a small American state. Low grade ores are more abundant.
It is a matter of note that, with the single exception of China,
none of the highly civilized nations either of antiquity or of
the earlier middle ages contained important deposits of iron.
It has already been pointed out that our civilization grew up
in southwestern Asia and around the Mediterranean, lands
poor in iron and still poorer in the fuel for smelting it. It does
no violence to realities if we imagine men and nations living on
and evolving ever higher planes of civilization in an environ-
ment without coal and with but little iron, as they did for thou-
sands of years. The only purpose of thus imagining a condi-
tion contrary to fact is that certain conditions which actually

2In Brazil, Sweden, “hina, Russia.

OUR IRON-CLAD CIVILIZATION 129

do exist and under which we are living may be seen in their
full significance.

A little different outworking of a few chemical and geolog-
ical processes might have left the iron of the earth’s crust
widely diffused through the rocks and incapable of extensive
use; or a little difference in the history of our planet might
have left it, as most parts are left, without coal. But the events
that really did happen gave certain parts of the earth coal and
iron in enormous quantities, yet left much larger parts with
little or none.

THE MARVELOUS RANGE OF UTILITY POSSESSED BY IRON

The great material developments of modern times have been
directed in a remarkable degree by the range of possibilities
afforded by the single metal iron, or more strictly speaking,
the ferro-alloys. It is an impressive fact that certain of the
most significant aspects of progress have been controlled and
shaped along a very definite line; it has been progress in the
fabrication of iron into tools, machines and engines of ever-
widening variety and utility. Starting with the steam engine
and progressing through all the marvelous expansion in the
designing of machines of every kind, through the growth of
means of communication and transportation on land and sea
and in the air, means of destruction in war, means of diffusion
of knowledge by the printing press, it is evident that the mate-
rial progress of mankind is running mainly along those lines
to which iron and steel have been devoted and to which they are
peculiarly suited. There are, of course, scores of contributing
factors—chemistry, metallurgy, mechanics, engineering, appli-
cations of electricity, and a long list of others—yet at every
step these agencies find themselves achieving their conquests
with the aid and the indispensable aid of iron and steel.

THE TRANSITION FROM STONE TO STEEL

Mankind stepped from an era in which his hightest material
achievements were in stone structures—to the era of machines
which multiply human energy, speed and ability in hundreds of
ways. It is the marvelous range of properties that can be
imparted to iron by tempering and alloying that make it the
incomparable metal. By slightly different methods of treat-
ment or by adding small amounts of carbon, manganese, chro-
mium, nickel, tungsten, or some other element, iron can be
given almost any degree of hardness, brittleness, toughness,

VOL. Ix.—9.

130 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

elasticity, rigidity or strength, and thus made to meet almost
any demand ranging from the hair spring of a watch to an
armor-piercing projectile. With such a substance at his com-
mand, and easily available in practically unlimited amounts,
man has unconsciously come to direct his energies and his in-
ventiveness along lines served by this metal. An age of pow-
erful engines, powerful ships, heavy guns, gigantic dredges,
towering buildings, and other things of great weight and
strength has come to pass; also an age of labor-performing
machines which have given us our present industrial organi-
zation of society with all its ills and blessings.

CIVILIZATION IN ITS MATERIAL ASPECTS NOW UNDER A NEW
CONTROL

With coal to supply him energy and with mechanisms that
multiplied his power and his producing capacity enormously,
the genius of man turned toward a new goal; not art, not archi-
tecture, not philosophy—but toward those activities in which
the endless adaptations of the machine could best serve him.
Master minds now found the opportunity for great achievement
in a new field. The age when men of vision embodied their
dreams in stone had largely passed. More and more, men of
daring, of ability, of energy, saw their rewards lie in a new
direction. There was no greater ability or vision than the
Athenian possessed; no greater daring or energy than the Ro-
man possessed, but opportunity of a hitherto unknown kind
had developed and that opportunity and its reward lay in the
activities which we term industry and commerce.

Iron and coal have not made our modern civilization. That
is an outgrowth of centuries, molded and shaped by many forces
andinfluences. It is not my desire to minimize any of the other
influences which have given modern civilization its character.
My purpose is to direct attention to two dominating influences:
the influence of the abundant metal—iron, and the abundant
fuel—coal, and to note the effect which the abundance of these
minerals has had in determining the trend of civilization and in
fixing the centers of wealth and of political and military power.
The world has come under the domination of the peoples that
have great reserves of coal and iron and know how to use them.

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 131

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF

By Professor EDWARD W. BERRY
THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

URING the vast interval of time that succeeded the depo-
ID sition of the latest Paleozoic sediments in the southeast-
ern United States—an interval represented by thousands of
feet of marine Triassic, Jurassic and Lower Cretaceous sedi-
ments in other parts of the world—this region was above the
sea and undergoing denudation, slow at times and quickened
at other times according’as the topography changed.

This old land surface was the scene of the culmination and
final extinction of the pteridosperms, ferns, calamites, lepido-
dendrons and sigillarias that characterized the flora of the coal
measures; of the differentiation and final extinction of the fern
and gymnosperm floras of the Triassic; and of the expansion
and wane of the cycadophytes which were so extensively devel-
oped throughout the world during the Jurassic and Lower Cre-
taceous. Finally it witnessed the origin and differentiation of
the angiosperms or flowering plants—the crowning achieve-
ment of plant evolution.

True flowers with gaily colored parts are thus, historically,
relatively modern achievements of evolutionary activity, largely
the result of the stimulus of insect activity in facilitating cross
fertilization. Another feature of the flowering plants is their
efficiency in the utilization of sunlight for chemical work. Ex-
clusive of bacteria and their relatives none of the lower plant
products can compare in their energy with that stored in the
seeds of our cereals, nor with but a few exceptions do the lower
plants produce fruits.

One is almost tempted to see design in the world-wide radia-
tion of flowering plants during Upper Cretaceous times imme-
diately preceding the Age of Mammals, and it is an impressive
fact that but for the development of the fruits and seeds of the
flowering plants during the Tertiary period man could not have
progressed beyond the carnivorous pack hunting stage of the
older Stone Age and civilization would have been an impossible
achievement.

The total thickness of marine sediments of the Triassic,
Jurassic and Lower Cretaceous of the world, missing in this

132 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

area, has been variously considered as amounting to from
12,000 to 40,000 feet and the time involved in their accumula-
tion has been estimated as amounting to at least six million
years. This estimate, while it is of necessity far from having
an accurate basis, is probably an under rather than an over-
statement of the actual time involved.

There is no means for determining how far out on the con-
tinental shelf to the southward the coast line extended during
these geological periods that are unrepresented by exposed
sediments in the southern Appalachian and Eastern Gulf
Coastal Plain regions. West of the Mississippi River, how-
ever, this geographical history is not an entire blank during
this long interval. In the late Jurassic sedimentary records
were left in Texas and throughout eastern Mexico, showing
that at that time those regions were flooded by the marine
waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Again during the Lower Cre-
taceeus the Gulf of Mexico covered much of Mexico, all of
Texas and Louisiana, and parts of New Mexico, Oklahoma and
Missouri, extending northward into southeastern Arizona and
southern Kansas.

Geologists, both in Europe and America, are not in accord
regarding the exact time in earth history when the Lower
passed into the Upper Cretaceous, although abroad the con-
sensus of opinion seems to be to consider the Cenomanian stage,
as it is called, as representing the earliest Upper Cretaceous
deposits. In our Western Gulf region, where the Lower Cre-
taceous is often called the Comanchean system, the later beds
referred to the Comanchean—those known as the Washita
division—have a wide extent, reaching northward as far as
Colorado and central Kansas. These Washita beds carry a
marine fauna that is distinctly Cenomanian in type, and the
marginal deposits which contain relics of the terrestrial vege-
tation of that time, as in southern Kansas, furnish a flora that
is also distinctly Cenomanian in character. Hence, unless we
are to consider that Lower Cretaceous time in this region lasted
for thousands of years after Upper Cretaceous time had been
inaugurated everywhere else in the world, we are obliged to
refer these Washita sediments to the Upper Cretaceous.

The early Upper Cretaceous, or what some students are
pleased to call the Mid-Cretaceous, was a time of surpassing
interest, not only for the student of earth history, but also for
the student of bygone floras. At about this time throughout
most coastal regions of the world, the strand commenced one
of its periodic invasions of the old land surfaces. Almost

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 133

everywhere the resulting initial deposits of this transgressing
Upper Cretaceous sea were littoral sands with clay lenses, more
or less lignite, and containing fossil plants, but no remains of
marine life. Whether it is the Perutz beds of Bohemia, the
Gredneria sandstone of Saxony, the Atane beds of Greenland,
or the sandstone of Mans in France—the latter locality giving
its name to the Cenomanian stage—that are considered, all are
lithologically much alike and all contain the remains of floras
that are very similar throughout and which furnish many iden-
tical species of plants. The extent of the Cenomanian sea in
southern North America is shown in Fig. 1.

wy ee

as

Fic. 1. THE CENOMANIAN SPA (LINED ARDA) OF SOUTHERN NORTH AMERICA.

In the lower Mississippi valley and the adjacent country to
the eastward we find that the long interval during which the
land had been above sea level had resulted in the levelling of
the country by the slow processes of erosion until the major por-
tion was covered with the products of rock weathering and the
surface was approaching a plain that sloped gently toward the
southwest. This old plain is known as the Cumberland pene-
plain. The streams were mature in character, meandering
over broad flood-plains and depositing much of their load of
sediments somewhere along their courses.

At this time and possibly inaugurated by some slight warp-
ing of the crust, or perhaps caused by the actual rising of the
sea level, we commence to see indications in the strata that are
available for study, of the approach of the strand across south-
ern Mississippi and southwestern Alabama. The oldest known
deposits now visible in this region are referred to what is called

134 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the Tuscaloosa formation. These are found along the south-
western margin of the present Appalachian valley, Cumberland
plateau, and the Interior Highlands to the northwest of the
Cumberland plateau. They occupy a roughly lunate area con-
vex toward the southwest. This crescent shaped area of Tus-
caloosa deposits extends from near Montgomery, Alabama, to
the extreme northwestern part of Alabama, and reaches beyond
this point as a thin and narrow band of residual sands and
gravels northward across Tennessee and Kentucky.

At about the center of this crescent the outcrop of these de-
posits broadens until it is nearly fifty miles wide. The mate-
rials are prevailingly sandy—light-colored, micaceous, irregu-
larly bedded sands with heavy beds of gravel made up of well
rounded quartz and subangular chert pebbles. In disconnected
and interbedded lenses are laminated or at times massive dark
to variegated clays. Some layers are filled with the prostrate
logs of drift wood, often of large size; thin bands of lignite are
present at various levels, and occasional thin layers are glauco-
nitic sands full of comminuted vegetable débris. No fossil re-
mains have been discovered in these beds except the impressions
of land plants and these are usually much broken, presumably
because of their having been drifted in river waters. Occa-
sionally more perfect materials are discovered that evidently
accumulated in the quiet back water of rivers or in ponds, and
that grew near at hand.

The Tuscaloosa formation is usually considered as having
a thickness of about 1,000 feet, but this is calculated and not
observed. Its basis is the usual method of calculating the
thickness of a normal marine formation by the dip of the beds -
and the width of the outcrop, a method not applicable to the
Tuscaloosa since it is obviously not a normal marine deposit.
One can not study the Tuscaloosa with its clay lenses, its ob-
liquely crossbedded sands, the abundance of drift wood, pre-
vailing coarseness, widely disseminated vegetable matter, and
occasional traces of glauconite, without becoming impressed
with its delta-like character. It fulfils all of the requirements
of a delta deposit and answers to none of the criteria of a
normal marine or estuarine deposit. This obviously does not
mean that at its seaward margin it did not merge into littoral,
estuarine and lagoonal environments, or that on its landward
side it did not extend up the river valleys as fluviatile, lacus-
trine, and typical continental deposits. All of these types were
doubtless being formed contemporaneously and over a long in-
terval of time, that is to be measured by the area over which

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 135

this delta-like blanket was spread rather than by the actual
thickness of the sediments at any one locality. Formerly
estuary conditions were considered as explaining the method
of deposition of this and of similar deposits everywhere that
lacked marine fossils, but there is usually but slight basis for
predicating such an environment. More important were ba-
yous, swamps, sand beaches, lagoons behind barrier beaches,
and the various types of continental deposition.

The streams which brought in the sands, driftwood and car-
bonaceous muds came from the northeast and the bulk of the
drainage of the Appalachian interior country, now a part of
the Tennessee River system, flowed to the southwest at that
time, the delta distributaries being located in the region where
the Tuscaloosa formation is found to be thickest and its outcrop
widest.

West of the Mississippi River at that time the shallow Ceno-
manian or Washita sea was having its margins silted up and
was gradually withdrawing to the southward, leaving in its
wake a mantle of littoral sands that now form a lower part of
what is called the Dakotasandstone. The time when this with-
drawal of the Washita sea reached its maximum corresponds
approximately with the oldest known part of the Tuscaloosa
delta or deltas—for there may well have been a series of deltas
along this old coast. As seems to be true of all geological his-
tory the coast line, so impressive and seemingly permanent a
geographical feature, did not remain in a definite position for
a long time in the geological sense, but after its withdrawal it
commenced a second readvance to the northward, and with this
event we reach the time at which we took up the history of the
Tuscaloosa delta.

As this sea advanced over the Western Interior region it
formed a second mantle of littoral sands that constitute the
remainder of what we now know as the Dakota sandstone,
which thus becomes progressively younger in its upper portion
as it is traced toward the northwest. Overlying these beach
sands are normal marine shales which were also being depos-
ited in the south earlier than in the north. The history of this
Western Interior sea is beyond the scope of the present article,
suffice to say that it eventually became one of the most wide-
spread floodings of the continent that we can trace, and may
even have extended until the waters of the Gulf of Mexico min-
gled with those of the Arctic Ocean. It broadened out medially
until its opposite shores were respectively in Idaho and Utah
on the west and in Minnesota and Iowa on the east. Its his-

136 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tory was long continued and complicated, and the shores of its
prevailingly shallow waters were ever shifting. Concomitant
with the advance of this Benton sea as it is called over the
Great Plains and Rocky Mountain country we see signs on an
incipient embayment extending up the Mississippi Valley.
According to the cosmopolitan terminology of geology this
stage of Cretaceous history is known as the Turonian stage
from the typical development of its deposits in Touraine, and

the geography of that time in southern North America is shown
in Fig. 2, the area occupied by the Tuscaloosa delta deposits
being indicated by solid black.

The Tuscaloosa delta deposits with their contained fossil
flora merge along their seaward margin into marine sands and
black laminated clays known as the Eutaw formation, which is
then partially contemporaneous with the Tuscaloosa. Higher
in the Eutaw occur massive glauconitic and more or less cal-
careous fossiliferous sands which have been called the Tom-
bigbee sand member of the Eutaw formation because of their
development along the Tombigbee River. This sand facies of
the Eutaw seems to have been a truly transgressive marine
deposit comparable with the Benton of the Western Interior
sea. It eventually extended up the Mississippi embayment
well across the state of Tennessee. Meanwhile history was not
standing still in other regions. The warping of the surface
which made it possible for this arm of the sea to extend up the
Mississippi valley was naturally not without its effect upon the
tributary rivers, and we assume that the Upper Cretaceous

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 137

Tennessee River had its southern distributaries silted up and
gradually shifted its outlet northward. This can not be demon-
strated conclusively, but the fact that the Tuscaloosa sands and
gravels can be traced far to the northward along such a prob-
able path, and the fact that these Tuscaloosa sediments in Ten-
nessee are younger than the bulk of the Tuscaloosa deposits
farther south as shown by the fossil plants points to such a
conclusion. This is rendered still more probable by the addi-
tional fact that the upper Eutaw becomes more and more cal-
careous and finally passes into an argillaceous limestone or
calcareous clay of great purity and thickness known as the
Selma chalk. In this southern region immediately outside of
the lunate area of maximum development of the Tuscaloosa
delta deposits and separated from them by only a narrow band
of Eutaw deposits there lies a similar lunate area of Selma
chalk. Here the latter forms a broad band upwards of 1,000
feet in thickness and continues to the top of the Upper Cre-
taceous, being immediately overlain by the Eocene. Traced
either eastward or northward toward the horns of the crescent
the Selma chalk becomes more and more impure until it is re-
placed along the strike by sands and clays which have received
the name of Ripley formation.

The numerous oyster-like and other Mollusca found in the
chalk show that it was a shallow water deposit. It contains a
very minor percentage of sandy sediments and no drift wood
or other land-derived material. The bearing of this is obvious,
for if the stream or streams that built the Tuscaloosa delta or
deltas still flowed where they had formerly done there would
have been no Selma chalk, but these slowly accumulating cal-
careous muds would have been completely masked by the
coarser terrigenous materials brought in by the rivers. Even
if a great reduction in run off be postulated, the streams would
at least contribute seasonal loads of coarse sediments and the
vegetable débris that such slow streams invariably carry would
demonstrate their existence by lignitic laminae or by carbo-
naceous clays in the chalk, and these are not found. The con-
clusion is inevitable—that at the time the Selma chalk was
being deposited the drainage of the eastern shore of the Missis-
sippi embayment was to the northwest and southeast, where
the chalk is replaced by sands and not where it had been during
Tuscaloosa time.

This northward advance of the Upper Cretaceous sea up the
Mississippi valley continued while the Selma chalk was being
deposited farther south where its waters were clearer until

138 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

finally a broad gulf was formed which reached well into south-
ern Illinois beyond the present mouth of the Ohio, submerging
all of Louisiana and Mississippi, western Tennessee and Ken-
tucky, southeastern Missouri, more than half of Arkansas, and
the greater part of Texas except the Llano estacado region,
which then formed a barrier that almost cut off the Mississippi
embayment from the Western Interior sea.

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; IANS ae

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\
nine
VEPs
ZZ

y

Z,
pie,

pi

BOS
:

LA

SSS

Fic. 3. THE RIPLEY OR EMSCHERIAN SBA (LINED AREA) OF SOUTHERN NORTH AMERICA.

This stage of Cretaceous history is commonly known as the
Emscherian or lower Senonian stage, and the geography of
that time in southern North America is shown in Fig. 3. This
geographical change quite naturally had a profound influence
upon the fresh-water inhabitants of the regian, and thestriking
contrasts between the Naiadacee or fresh-water pear! shells of
eastern and western North America so pronounced to-day is
supposed, whether rightly or wrongly it is hard to say, to date
from this invasion of the sea during the Upper Cretaceous.

After this maximum advance of the Gulf of Mexico up the
Mississippi valley a recession commenced which is marked by
the increasingly near shore and shallow water character of the
deposits, with leaf bearing clays deposited in lagoons and estua-
ries, with many near shore- and mud-loving molluscs like Cor-
bula. Only occasionally do we find traces of a normal marine
fauna of clearer waters like that found at Owl Creek in Missis-
sippi or along Coon Creek in Tennessee. A limited area in the
lower part of the Ripley sands at Coon Creek in the north-
eastern part of McNairy County, Tennessee, has furnished a

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 139

wonderful assemblage of marine fossils. Already it has yielded
the remains of three species of fishes, five crabs and nine sea
mats (bryozoa), one sea urchin, two worms, one coral and a
vast host of mollusca. It has furnished what is probably the
most prolific molluscan fauna that has as yet been found any-
where in our American Cretaceous, since about 350 different
forms have already been recognized. Gastropods are espe-
cially abundant, embracing about 75 genera and 150 species,
of which about one third are new to science, and all are beau-
tifully preserved. This fauna contains seven Cephalopods,
among which is a veritable giant of a baculite or armored squid.
A mounted specimen of one of the more complete of these bacu-
lites, but not the largest that has been found, has been mounted
in the Johns Hopkins Paleontological collections.

Finally, this region covered by the Upper Cretaceous Mis-
sissippi Gulf was entirely drained and remained above the sea
for a long interval of time until it was covered once again by
a similar transgression of the Gulf of Mexico in lower Eocene
(Midway) time. Meanwhile a complex succession of events
was taking place in the Western Interior sea. Its shallow
marginal waters were repeatedly silted up and converted into
coastal swamps in which the luxuriant vegetation of that time
went to form the lignitic coals that are so widely distributed
in our prairie states. Traces of this sea lingered for a long
time in the deeper parts of the basin after most of the area had
been transformed into a region of continental and palustrine
deposition, and these conditions persisted for a long time after
the Mississippi embayment had been drained.

Because of the more favorable conditions for the accumula-
tion and preservation of the remains of the contemporaneous
Upper Cretaceous floras, that of the Tuscaloosa is the most
extensive and representative of any of the floras of the Upper
Cretaceous Mississippi embayment deposits. This Tuscaloosa
flora as it is known at the present time comprises over 150 dif-
ferent species, none of which survived in the Eocene of this
region. Of the 87 known genera over half are now extinct,
while others are no longer represented in North America, but
have their surviving descendants in South America, the Orient,
or even the antipodes. These 87 genera represent 48 families
and 31 orders. The largest alliances are the Ranales (butter-
cup, custard apple, magnolia order) with 26 different species,
the Rosales (rose order) with 15 species, the Sapindales (soap-
berry order) with 15 species, the Coniferales (conifer order)
with 14 species, and the Urticales (fig, bread fruit order) with

140 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

8 species. One hundred and twenty-three of the Tuscaloosa
forms are dicotyledons, similar to our modern hardwood trees,
and of these 107 belong to the more primitive choripetalous
division, while only 16 belong to the more specialized gamo-
petalous division. The largest single genera are Celastrophyl-
lum, Magnolia and Ficus.

One of the most puzzling of the Tuscaloosa plants is shown
in the accompanying figure
(Fig. 4). The leaves were
digitate and are seen to con-
sist of a central symmetrical
terminal leaflet and a pair of
inequilateral leaflets on either
side of the central one. These
leaves are very abundant in
the younger beds of the Tus-
caloosa toward their seaward
margin. It was not difficult to
give them a name since they

Fic. 4. LEAF oF Dewalquea, an ex- correspond generically with
tinct genus ef Upper Cretaceous plant, Jegyes found elsewhere in both
found in the Tuscaloosa delta deposits - -
Ai abaiie: Europe and America which

were named by Saporta and
Marion Dewalquea in honor of the Belgian geologist Dewalque,
who first discovered them at Gelinden near Liége. Their
botanical relationship, however, has never been satisfactorily
determined. Saporta and Marion thought that they were re-
lated to the Hellebore tribe of the family Ranunculacez, while
others consider that they are referable to the Aralia family
(Araliacez) or the Bombax family (Bombacaceez). This form,
so common in the upper Tuscaloosa, has also been found in
Tennessee and South Carolina, and other species are known
from Arkansas, Wyoming, New York, New Jersey, North Caro-
lina, Minnesota, Kansas, Belgium, Germany, Bohemia and
Greenland, showing that it was evidently a widespread plant
type during Upper Cretaceous times.

An element in the Tuscaloosa as well as in the Eutaw and
Ripley floras, one that is no longer found in North America
except along the Mexican border is the Cesalpinaceous genus
Bauhinia, now confined to the tropical and sub-tropical regions
of America, Asia, Africa and Australia. Experience has shown
that such modern genera as are represented in all or several
tropical regions of the world necessarily have had a long geo-
logical ancestry which has enabled them to reach their present

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 141

striking confirmation of this theoretical consideration. Upper
Cretaceous species, recognized by their very characteristic leaf
form, have been found in both Europe and America, and Ter-
tiary species are recorded from southern Europe. About a
dozen fossil forms are known and they are especially abundant

2

Fic. 5. LEAVES OF VARIOUS UPPER CRETACEOUS BAUHINIAS. 1, 2, Bauhinia mary-
landica Berry from the Magothy formation of Maryland; 3, Bauhinia ripleyensis Berry
from the Ripley formation of Alabama; 4, Bauhinia cretacea Newberry from the Rari-
tan formation of New Jersey; 5, Bauhinia alabamensis Berry from the Eutaw forma-
tion of Alabama.

and varied in the North American Upper Cretaceous. They
seem to have been particularly common during Tuscaloosa time,
for at several localities in Alabama leaves of both a large and
a small species have been discovered which are also found at

142 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

corresponding horizons in Maryland and New Jersey. In the
lower Eutaw a large and ornate butterfly-like form has been
collected, while a smaller form is present in the Ripley in both
Alabama and Tennessee. These are all shown in the accom-
panying figures.

Another Tuscaloosa plant belonging to the same family as
Bauhinia and somewhat like it in leaf form is Hymenza. The
latter has leathery leaves with a characteristcally different
venation and entirely divided to form two inequilateral leaflets.
The modern species are trees of the American tropics yielding
a variety of copal gum and a hard red wood. They are prized
by the South American Indians for their sweetish sour fruits.
Not more than eight or ten existing species are known, so they
are less than twice as numerous as the known fossil species.
In Upper Cretaceous and Tertiary times the genus was repre-
sented upon both sides of the Atlantic. Five different forms
are recorded from beds of about the same age as those of the
Tuscaloosa in Kansas, New Jersey, New York and Bohemia.
The Tuscaloosa plant is the handsomest and most clearly defined
of any of these.

Several species of Sequoia grew round the shores of the
Mississippi embayment throughout the Upper Cretaceous, as
they had in still earlier times, but the presence of sequoias is
not as remarkable as it may seem to the layman who knows
only the giant trees and the California redwood of recent times,
for sequoias were once cosmopolitan and their foliage or char-
acteristic cones are found in the Mesozoic and Tertiary rocks
of most countries where the fossil floras have been studied.
There are, however, two other types of Tuscaloosa conifers that
deserve special mention.

The first of these is Dammara (and Protodammara). The
modern dammaras or kauri gums comprise several species,
mostly insular types, found in the area extending from the
Philippines and Malay Peninsula through the East Indies to
Fiji and northern New Zealand. They have mostly large,
parallel-veined leaves and immense cones of single-seeded de-
ciduous scales. Sometimes in Tertiary rocks, but especially in
those of the Upper Cretaceous, kite-shaped mucronate tipped
cone scales with longitudinal resin canals have been found.
These baffled paleobotanists for a long time, but are now known
to be those of Dammara and of an allied extinct genus Proto-
dammara which had smaller and three-seeded cone scales.
Both of these occur in the Tuscaloosa clays as well as in corre-
sponding horizons northward as far as western Greenland and

THE UPPER CRETACEOUS MISSISSIPPI GULF 143

abodes over land routes no longer in existence. Bauhinia is a
in Europe. These occurrences prove that this now restricted
type of ancient conifer was once common throughout the north-
ern hemisphere and has gradually become restricted to its pres-
ent limited habitat.

The other Tuscaloosa coniferous type that I wish to mention
is Widdringtonites, a genus whose descendants are now con-
fined to South Africa and Madagascar with outlying relatives
in North Africa, extreme southern South America and Aus-
tralia. Although foliage like that of Widdringtonites is re-
corded from rocks as old as the late Triassic, it should be
remembered that coniferous foliage alone in the absence of
cones is difficult to identify with precision, and while Widdring-
tonites has been identified with very many Upper Cretaceous
and Tertiary outcrops in North America, Greenland and Eu-
rope, they are not all above suspicion. However, if the student
is fortunate enough to discover the cones, he can be assured of
the nature of his finds, for Widdringtonites has characteristic
four-valved cones quite distinct from those of other conifers.
Among the great abundance of delicate foliage of this plant
preserved in the Tuscaloosa clays of Alabama are some with
small, attached four-valved cones just like those of the modern
forms, thus demonstrating their relationship.

One of the most spectacular members of the Eutaw and
Ripley floras is the plant known as Manihotites georgiana,
shown in the accompanying figure (Fig. 6), one fifteenth nat-
ural size. These leaves are sub-
peltate and of enormous size,
deeply lobate and dichotomously
sublobate. Naturally, when such
large leaves fell into the bayous
of Eutaw and Ripley time and
drifted out to be buried in the
mud of the lagoons, they were
almost always broken to pieces, — ruc. 6, Manihotites, aN Upper CRe-
and such fragments are not un- TACEOUS CASSAVA LEAF FROM = EUTAW
common and are rather widely FORMATION OF GEORGIA. x1/15.
distributed, having been found at several localities in North
Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee and Arkansas. It would have
been entirely impossible to determine their general form or
their botanical relationship if it had not been for the accidental
discovery by the writer of two nearly perfect leaves in a tiny
clay lens in the lower Eutaw sands of western Georgia.

One of these leaves measured 36 centimeters across and the

144 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

other 48 centimeters and both apparently came from the same
plant. It was at once obvious that they represented an ances-
tral type of the genus Manihot, which includes the Cassava
plant, and which has upward of a hundred existing species,
nearly all of which are endemic in tropical South America, the
majority being found in Brazil. Various of the cultivated va-
rieties will grow in our southern gulf states where the growing
season lasts for nearly the whole year, but light frosts or even
continued cool weather entirely stops growth. Even in the
tropics the best growth is made in the humid coastal regions,
so that if the fossil form required a comparable habitat and
climate, it furnishes an interesting light on the conditions
around the border of the Eutaw and Ripley seas of the Missis-
sippi embayment.

Many other interesting extra-limital types might be men-
tioned which once flourished in association with the early an-
cestors of our native trees on the shores of these ancient seas,
but enough has perhaps been written to illustrate the fascina-
tion in transporting the mind backward through millions of
years, forgetful of the obtrusive present, and endeavoring to
picture the pulsing life and its environment and the shifting
scenes of the geographic history of remote time.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 145

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM IN THE
WAR. II

By Professor F. H. PIKE
THE DEPARTMENT OF PHYSIOLOGY OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

THE GENERAL RESULTS OF INTERNAL ORGANIZATION

HROUGH the agency of these various kinds of organization,
the activities of the organism are so coordinated or corre-
lated that, under the usual conditions of existence, no one of the
life processes outruns the others. No one process or reaction
goes on unchecked or uncontrolled, but each process is regulated
in conformity with the needs of the body. The organism looks
after itself. This orderly coordination of internal activities of
the plant or animal organism was, as referred to a few pages
back, called physiological integration by Herbert Spencer. The
point of view of the physiologist is that all internal processes
of the organism go on for the good of the organism as a whole.
As Haldane expressed it, the changes which occur in response
to changing conditions are such as to perpetuate the life of the
organism. This constitutes one phase of what Treviranus
called adaptation—the property which, as Burdon-Sanderson
believed, distinguishes living from non-living matter.

In setting forth the progress of physiology as consisting in
the increase of our knowledge of the internal organization of
the plant or animal body, one may see a justification of Burdon-
Sanderson’s earlier statement as to the proper field of physiol-
ogy— The action of the parts or organs in their relation to
each other.” The physiology of the past has been almost
wholly concerned with the physiology of the individual, with
only brief reference in a few of the texts, e. g., Beaunis and
Luciani, to the physiology of the species.

With the entrance of the physiology of the species into the
problem, we must, I think, add something to the statement on
the outcome of the processes in living matter. All the ordinary
processes in individual living organisms which go on for the
good of the organism may be regarded as egoistic activities, or,
as some would express it, selfish activities. But when the point
of view is shifted from the individual to the species, there is
another group of activities which enters in, and which has
reference to other individuals. This second group of processes,

VOL. Ix.—10

146 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

since it has reference to other individuals, may be regarded as
altruistic rather than egoistic. The continued existence of a
species depends, therefore, first upon the successful outcome of
the egoistic processes to the end that individual organisms may
be present on the earth and, second, upon the successful out-
come of the altruistic processes to the end that there may be
new individual organisms upon the earth to take the place of
those that die. There must be, therefore, a continual balance
struck between egoistic and altruistic activities if the species is
to survive. To anticipate a part of the discussion in later por-
tions of this paper, we may say, also, that the new individuals
must be somewhat better on an average, than the old if evolu-
tion is to occur. That evolution has occurred, there is now
little doubt.

As a result of the study of the internal organization of
living forms, we have gained certain ideas of the various proc-
esses or changes occurring in living organisms. Jost!? sum-
marizes these changes as: (1) Changes of form, including the
phenomena of growth and development. (2) Changes of posi-
tion, either of the organism as a whole or of its parts with rela-
tion to each other or to the organism as a whole; this includes
all phenomena of movement. (8) Changes of matter and
energy—metabolism in its widest sense.

THE ORGANISM IN ITS ENVIRONMENT

Until the organism comes into contact either with its en-
vironment or with other organisms, it can have little relation to
other things, and, consequently, physiology as a science can
have little relation to the great lines of scientific thought in
general until it considers the relation of the processes of the
regulation of the internal conditions of the organism to the
external world. Evolution, heredity and variation, and man’s
mental reactions to the conditions of his environment are all
matters of general biological, or even public, interest and we
may inquire into the relation between physiology and these
other lines of work. As a rule, the animal physiologist, as dis-
tinguished from the plant physiologist, has not considered his
material from the point of view of organic evolution, and to a
still greater degree, he has not considered how his body of fact
will react upon the current conceptions of the process of evolu-
tion, either in the way of sharpening our ideas or of modifying
them to bring them into line with what is known from the
physiological or functional side of biology.

17“ Vorlesungen iiber Pflanzenphysiologie,” 2d., pp. 3-4, Jena, 1908.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 147

There are certain large problems in biology which, by definition at
least, belong to physiology, but which as a matter of fact do not at present
form a subject of investigation by physiologists. Such, for instance, are
the great questions of development and heredity, and the varied and im-
portant reactions between the organism and its environment included
under the term ecology or bionomics.1®

Yet, unquestionably, the body of fact on the functional or-
ganization of animals and plants is now sufficiently large and
complete to exert an influence upon wider and more general
aspects of biological thought.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE DOCTRINE OF EVOLUTION UPON THE
DEVELOPMENT OF PHYSIOLOGY

The doctrine of evolution has had an influence upon the
development of the wider inductions of physiology in places
where physiology and morphology have touched upon common
ground. But the recognition of the influence of organic evolu-
tion upon the development of physiology has, on the whole,
been more tardy and much less extensive than similar recogni-
tion in morphology. The science of morphology is, in fact, con-
fessedly founded upon the doctrine of evolution, but such a
statement can not yet be made about physiology. Claude
Bernard included evolution as one of the fundamental prop-
erties of living matter, and Beaunis included evolution as one
of the principles of physiology, but such statements have not
been generally incorporated in the texts on physiology in the
present century. The biologist must eventually follow the lead
of the astronomer or the astrophysicist and the geologist and
attempt the explanation of the evolution of plant and animal
forms in terms of the underlying changes of matter and energy
as the astronomer and the geologist are doing now.

A digression may be pardoned here. Claude Bernard not
only saw the larger province of physiology, but he also saw the
application of the fundamental principles of science to his own
subject. The opinion of a neutral observer from the province
of astronomy may be given here:’®

The statue of Claude Bernard before the college must appeal to every
scholar; for his “Introduction a l’étude de la médicine expérimentale,”
unfortunately veiled from workers in other fields by its medical title, is
one of the classics of science. Here in the crystalline clearness of perfect
French, devoid, in large part, of professional details, the general prin-

ciples of scientific research are superbly presented. No investigator un-
familiar with this great work should leave it long unread.

18 Howell, loc. cit., p. 11.
19 Hale, G. E., “ Science and Learning in France,’ The Society for
American Fellowships in French Universities, p. 11.

148 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

There have been times when the physiologist might stand
in the presence of his fellows, as Cellini did in the studio of
Francis I., and say: ‘“‘I too am a scientist.”

On the morphological side, the idea of evolution has influ-
enced physiology in the development of our ideas of the circu-
latory, respiratory and digestive mechanisms. Many texts on
physiology include brief surveys of the comparative anatomy
and physiology of these systems, and there is now in the litera-
ture a considerable bulk of facts on the comparative physiology
of these systems. But, on the whole, the comparative physi-
ology is treated more from the morphological than the purely
functional side.

The influence of evolution is shown also in the treatment of
the nervous system. But here again the treatment of the com-
parative side of the central nervous system has been more
morphological than functional. Edinger and von Monakow
have shown that, considered morphologically, there are two
nervous systems in the higher vertebrates. There is the primi-
tive or phylogenetically older central nervous system to which
Edinger has applied the term paleencephalon, present in the
lower vertebrates and persisting in higher vertebrates. But
higher vertebrates possess some nerve cell groups and fiber
tracts which have appeared in the course of organic evolution,
and been added to the paleencephalon as it exists in lower
vertebrates. This phylogenetically newer portion is known as
the neencephalon.

It is the phylogenetically newer portion, the neencephalon
of Edinger, which is particularly related to the cerebral hemi-
spheres, either as end stations for afferent fibers or as the site
of origin of motor fibers. It follows that cerebral localization
is possible in a high degree only when the neencephalon is
developed in a high degree. Localization in other parts of the
nervous system is probably related more to the paleencephalon
than to the neencephalon.

The question of cerebral localization as well as localization
in the nervous system generally has been a subject of contro-
versy for more than four decades, and there is still no general
agreement on many of the points concerned. There is little
question that, morphologically, the anterior portion of the cen-
tral nervous system—the brain—has undergone profound
changes in the course of evolution. Steiner and others have
supposed that there might be a shifting of function toward the
anterior end of the nervous system corresponding to the change
in structure. Gaskell emphasized the increasing importance to

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 149

the animal of the head in acquiring its experience. Goltz,
however, opposed the idea of the shifting of function toward
the brain and denied the validity of the theory of cerebral
localization. Goltz stated his belief that the same segments of
the nervous system—. e., the spinal cord, the medulla oblon-
gata, the cerebral hemispheres and the rest—exercised essen-
tially the same functions in all types of animals. There is no
detailed and extensive cerebral localization in the frog and, on
the basis of Goltz’s view, there can be no more inman. Twenty
years later, Edinger expressed an essentially similar view
about certain portions of the nervous system. I am unable to
see the validity of either Goltz’s or Edinger’s argument, but I
have been repeatedly told that the error lies in my own way of
thinking and not in any part of the Teutonic argument. I
still adhere, however, to my views expressed ten years ago that
the function as well as the structure of the central nervous
system has undergone profound changes in the course of verte-
brate evolution. I do not believe, as Goltz insisted, that the
same structures in the nervous system of man necessarily
have the same functions they exercise in the frog. Nor do I
see that Edinger’s view helps us much.?®

Quite apart from those phases of the subject in which I
have come into conflict with the weight of authority, I do not
feel that the influence of the idea of evolution upon the general
conceptions of physiology has been as great as it should have
been.

THE INFLUENCE OF PHYSIOLOGY UPON THE GENERAL
CONCEPTIONS OF EVOLUTION

The other phase of the question remains. What effect have
the conceptions of physiology had upon the general trend of
thought in evolution?

The contribution made by physiologists directly has not
been large, but the application of some of the principles of
physiology by biologists to the problems of evolution has been
of greater extent. In recent years the plant physiologists have
been attacking such problems as the effect of changes in the
environment upon plants and we are now getting quantitative
data on which to base our opinions. Perhaps a better way to
put it is to say that we are supplanting mere opinion by state-
ments of fact.

There is sufficient evidence from the side of physiology to
show that there is a decreasing effect of the environment upon

19 Pike, Journal of Comparative Neurology, 1918, XXIX., p. 485.

150 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the internal physico-chemical conditions of organisms as suc-
cessively higher types are studied. In more recent years it
has been recognized that Herbert Spencer made a statement of
considerable biological importance when he said the organism
acquired an independence of the environment. Woods has em-
phasized this phase of the subject in “The Law of Diminishing
Effect of the Environment” and Julian Huxley has presented
the subject, partly from the point of view of the zoologist,
partly from the point of view of the philosopher, in his “ Indi-
vidual in the Animal Kingdom.” I have given elsewhere a
survey of the mechanisms, considered from the point of view
of the physiologist, by means of which higher animals have
attained their independence of the environment.”’ I have also
pointed out that this increasing independence of the environ-
ment or, in other words, the increasing rigidity of the internal
organization of the organism, eventually leads to a limitation
of the possibility of changes in the individual organism in the
course of its lifetime.21 From the lowest forms on up to the
highest, there is an increasing rigidity of the physico-chemical
organization which not only limits the effect of the environment
on the organism, but which also limits the magnitude of internal
changes that are compatible with continued life of the organ-
ism. Reichert has shown that changes of a physico-chemical
nature constitute one of the processes of organic evolution.
The conclusion follows, that, while rigidity of the internal
physico-chemical organization may result in greater efficiency
of the individual organism, it interferes with the progress of
evolution in the individual. But Claude Bernard’s statement
that evolution is one of the characteristics of life seems to me
essentially sound. The highly organized, efficient, but un-
changeable organism dies and a new one takes its place. Effi-
ciency demands its price.

The data accumulated by physiologists in the study of the
chemical mechanisms of the plant and animal body form a
necessary background for the study of the dynamic effects of
changes in the environment. For until we know the constitu-
tion of the organism under standard conditions, we are not in a
position to say what changes have been produced in that con-
stitution or physico-chemical system by subjecting it to a dif-
ferent set of conditions.

The chemical mechanisms in the internal organization of

20 Pike, F. H., and Scott, E. L., American Naturalist, 1915, XLIX.,

p. 321.
21 Journal of Heredity, 1917, VIII., p. 195.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 151

living forms exemplify Bergson’s statement that “ Life mani-
fests a quest for individuality and tends to constitute systems
naturally isolated, naturally closed.” For the organism is a
physico-chemical system of its own, and it tends to close itself
more and more against the effects of the environment. But
nowhere does the independence of the environment become
complete.

The possibility of the effect of a change in the environment
upon the organism is not limited to possibility of an effect upon
the physico-chemical mechanisms. Des Cartes, in the seven-
teenth century, pointed out that the central nervous system is a
mechanism capable of bringing about the coordination of the
activities of the animal in response to a change in the environ-
ment.

The property of irritability is highly developed in nervous
tissue, and in the higher animal organisms, we find developed
at the periphery an elaborate series of receptors or sense
organs whose general function is to lower the threshold of
stimulation to a particular form of stimulus, or, in less tech-
nical language, to make the organism more sensitive to the
manifestations of certain forms of energy in the environment.
Some specific examples of these will be given further on in
this paper.

Psychologists have taken up the problem of the reaction of
the individual to those changes in the environment which affect
the sense organs, and to which the individual responds by the
exhibition of some phenomenon of behavior. Public interest
in their results has been much greater than in the results on the
organization of the nervous system, and the influence of the
psychologists upon thought has been greater than that of
physiologists. The reason for this is that the psychologist has
considered the relation of the organism to the environment
while the physiologist has not done so to an equal degree. But
the fundamental basis for the explanation of the psychologist’s
results, upon which any rational interpretation of his facts
must rest, is the organization of the central nervous system.
Progress in psychology is, to this extent, dependent upon prog-
ress in the physiology of the nervous system.

It is sometimes a thankless task for a worker in one field to
point out the indebtedness of workers in other fields. It is all
the more gratifying, therefore, to be able to cite the acknowl-
edgments of other workers of their interest, if not of their
indebtedness; for when the acknowledgement is voluntary, the
prospects of cooperation are greater, and most certainly the

152 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

students of the nervous system need to cooperate in the present
state of science. In psychology, there are numerous instances
of the manifestation of this interest. A recent example is that
of Professor W. H. Burnham whose paper on “The Signif-
icance of Stimulation in the Development of the Nervous
System ’’*? emphasizes the relation of the organism to the
environment and gives an account of the organization of the
nervous system in terms somewhat different from those which
I have employed.
An even stronger statement is that by Forel:

Comparative Psychology is an as yet almost unexplored territory and
but little understood, for want of approaching it by the best side, that is
to say, by carefully made observations. It is involved either in meta-
physical dogmas, or in shallow anthropomorphism which confounds in-
herited instinct and its automatisms with the plastic judgment of the
individual, based upon memory and the association of memories or sensory
impressions. Let us be thoroughly imbued with the truth that each
species and even each polymorphic animal form has its special psychology,
which should be especially studied, and which depends on the one hand
upon the development of its muscles and senses, and on the other upon
that of its brain.?3

I may, then, plead the fundamental nature of the organiza-
tion of the nervous system as a justification for any attempt to
explain man’s responses to certain changes in the environment
from the point of view of physiology.

It has long been recognized in one way or another that the
physiology of the nervous system can not be adequately studied
without reference to the relation of the organism to its environ-
ment. This is clearly set forth by Professor C. J. Herrick in the
opening chapter of his “‘ Introduction to Neurology.” Instincts
have long had a fascination for biologists and I venture to
quote here a statement from a French master which I have
cited in another paper.’

We may distinguish, in those attitudes and movements which are in-
tended to express our intellectual and instinctive acts, and which are in-
cluded under the generic term “ gestes,” between those which are bound
up with organization and, as a consequence, are present in all men, in
whatever condition, and those which have arisen and reached their per-
fection in a social state.

The former are intended to express the most simple condition, the
internal sensations as joy, pain, grief and the like, as well as the animal
passions, through cries and the voice. One may observe them in the idiot,

22 American Journal of Psychology, 1917, XVIII., p. 88.

23 The Senses of Insects,” quoted by Rau, Phil and Nellie, “ Wasp
Studies Afield”’; Princeton University Press, 1918.

24 Journal of Comparative Neurology, 1918, XXIX., p. 487.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 153

the savage, the blind from birth, as well as in civilized man enjoying all
moral and physical advantages. These are native or instinctive responses.

Whitman” also recognized this essential relationship in his
statement that “‘ organization shapes behavior.”

If, as I hope, I have been successful in showing (1) that
physiology has great potentialities for the further study of
large biological and human problems and (2) that it has not
so far lived up to its promise, I have two things yet to do. We
may consider first the reason why physiology has not fulfilled
its promises and then make some attempt at the general fulfill-
ment of the promise given in the introduction, to consider
man’s reaction to the general conditions of the war. As to the
reason why physiology has had such a limited development,
compared to its opportunities, I suspect German academic influ-
ence in great part. The grounds for this suspicion are found in
the following quotation from Merz:*°

I must remind the reader here that though I use the word biological
as denoting the more recent point of view from which all phenomena of
the living world are being grouped and comprehended, and though the
word seems first to have been used by a German, nevertheless, the arrange-
ment of studies at the German universities has hardly yet recognized the
essential unity of all biological sciences. They are unfortunately still
divided between the philosophical and the medical faculties. It is indeed
an anomaly, hardly consistent with the philosophical and encyclopaedic
character of German research, that palaeontology, botany, zoology and
anthropology, should belong to the philosophical, whereas anatomy, physi-
ology and pathology are placed in the medical faculty. Eminent biologists
and anthropologists, such as Schleiden, Lotze, Helmholtz and Wundt, have
accordingly belonged to both faculties. To place biological studies on the
right footing would require a mind similar to that of F. A. Wolf, who
evolved out of the vaguer idea of humaniora the clearer notion of a science
of antiquity, and who accordingly was able to convert the training school
of teachers, the seminary, into a nursery of students of antiquity.
Whether a similar reform in the purely scientific interests of the “ science
of life” which is now mostly cultivated for the benefit of the medical
practitioner, can be effected in this age when practical aims are gradually
taking the place of scientific ideas, is another question.

When we remember the date when this was written (1903)
it will be seen that it was not mere war hysteria, but the well-
considered opinion of a scholar, arrived at after long and care-
ful study of the problem. For this very reason, it commands
more respect and attention than it otherwise might.

The condition which Merz describes does not exist in Ger-
many alone. Physiology, as it has been developed in America,

25 “ Animal Behavior,” Marine Biological Lectures, Woods Hole, Ses-

sion of 1893, p. 298, Boston, 1899.
26 Vol. 1, p. 220.

154 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

largely under the influence of the German schools as I believe,
has not concerned itself much with the relation between organ-
ism and environment. With little exception, American physi-
ology has been a strictly subordinate subject in a polytech-
nicum, concerned more with those phases of internal organiza-
tion which have a supposed immediate medical interest than
with those which have a more general scientific interest, and
dealing more with those aspects of the relation of the organism
to the environment which may be comprised within the limits
of the pharmacist’s stock of drugs and the appliances of the
hospital and the sanitarium than with the relations of organism
and environment as they exist in nature generally. The tech-
nical aspects of physiology must, of course, be investigated and
taught. I am inclined to believe that they should occupy an
even larger place in the medical curriculum than they now hold.
But these technical aspects should by no means comprise all of
physiology. Chemistry and physics long ago passed from the
control of medical faculties and began their course of develop-
ment as independent scientific subjects. It would be interest-
ing to speculate upon their probable present stage of develop-
ment if they had remained under the exclusive control of either
medicine or engineering.

If any insist that there have been no agencies which have
tended to retard the progress of physiology, we have still to
explain why it has not fulfilled the promise of development
which it had in the days of Claude Bernard and the French
School of his time. The field has been mapped out and, if there
have been no retarding influences, the only alternatives appear
to be that a part of the field is unworthy of being worked, or
that no men of sufficient vision have appeared to work in all
parts of the field, neither of which appears to be wholly reason-
able.

The more general phases of physiology are now for the most
part being studied in departments of zoology, particularly by
the animal ecologists, and botany. The students of the effects
of the environment on the organism have been, for the most
part, less familiar than they should be, with the details of the
internal functional organization of plants and more particularly
of animals. The students of internal organization have too
often cared but little or not at all for the relation between
changes in the environment and possible changes in internal
organization. Without the cooperation of workers along each
of these lines, and others as well, it does not seem possible that
physiology should reach its maximum usefulness to science in

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 15d

general, and, through science, to the human race. It will not
reach its greatest development as a science until more univer-
sities establish departments of general physiology, or extend
existing departments for the study of the relationships of
crganism and environment in their widest phases.

It would not, however, be strict justice to German physi-
ology to say, either that all of the tendency toward the restric-
tion of physiology to the narrower field was of German origin,
or that no attempts to raise the wider aspects of the science to
a plane equalling in popularity and influence that on which the
narrower view rests. Verworn, Rosenthal and others, following
the leadership of Claude Bernard’s classic volume, have pre-
sented the subject of general physiology in meritorious texts,
and a journal devoted exclusively to general physiology has
been published in German for some years past. The relative
prominence of the German publications has even led to the
neglect of some of the French works on the same subject.

There are indications, however, that the strictly medical
side of physiology as it has been taught is no longer quite ade-
quate to the demands of the medicine of the future. Even med-
ical men are beginning to look around beyond the present
boundaries of the curriculum. An earlier statement of my
own that the physiologist would seem to be the best qualified
person finally to decide upon questions of adaptation, and a
further statement that the theory of organic evlution seems the
best place for workers in every line of biology to bring their
results for the inspection and criticism of others, has recently
received gratifying support from a medical source. In his
volume on the relation of Medicine to Evolution, Adami?’ re-
marks, that “these matters of adaptation and evolution have
of necessity to be approached from the aspect of function and
the dynamics of living matter, rather than from the point of
view of cell statics.” Haldane** has considered the relation of
the organism to the gaseous environment in detail.

If, as has already been indicated, evolution is one of the
properties of living matter, it falls within the province of the
physiologist, and its mechanism is to be explained, just as the
mechanism of other physiological processes is to be explained,
on the fundamental basis of changes of matter and energy.
That the task is one of surpassing difficulty, few will doubt, and
that we shall quickly arrive at a solution of the problems few

27“ Medical Contributions to the Study of Evolution,” New York,
1918, p. 85.

28“ Organism and Environment as Illustrated by the Physiology of
Breathing,’”’ New Haven, 1917.

156 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

will hope. The best we can do is to continue work along these
lines.

In industrial life too, there is the beginning of an idea that
the conditions of work in factories and offices may affect the
amount of work done in a day. The human organism becomes
a human machine in industrial plants, and it would seem
axiomatic that the student of its internal organism should be
the one best fitted to study its operation under industrial
conditions.*°

I may here summarize the field of biology, and especially
that of physiology by quoting again from the distinguished
Briton, Burdon-Sanderson :*°

From the short summary of the connection between different parts
of our science you will see that biology naturally falls into three divisions,
and these are even more sharply distinguished by their methods than by
their subjects; namely, Physiology, of which the methods are entirely ex-
perimental; Morphology, the science which deals with the forms and struc-
ture of plants and animals, and of which it may be said that the body is
anatomy, the soul, development; and finally, Oecology, which uses all the
knowledge it can obtain from the other two, but chiefly rests on the ex-
ploration of the endless varied phenomena of animal and plant life as they
manifest themselves under natural conditions. This last branch of
biology—the science which concerns itself with the external relations of
plants and animals to each other, and to the past and present conditions
of their existence, is by far the most attractive. In it those qualities of
mind which especially distinguish the naturalist find their highest exer-
cises, and it represents more than any other branch of the subject what
Treviranus termed the “ Philosophy of living nature.”

What is true of animals is true in greater or less measure of
Man. We may now pass on to the consideration of man in his
relation to his social and political environment.

(To be continued)

29 Lee, F. S., “The Human Machine and Industrial Efficiency,” New
York, 1918, good bibliography.
30 Loc. cit., p. 465.

TWO SOUTHERN BOTANISTS AND THE CIVIL WAR 157

TWO SOUTHERN BOTANISTS AND THE CIVIL
WAR

By NEIL E. STEVENS
BUREAU OF PLANT INDUSTRY

SCIENTIST’S observations often can be best evaluated
A in the light of a knowledge of the man and the condi-
tions under which he worked. The following notes regarding
two eminent American mycologists will then be of interest to
botanists; and, in view of the similarities between the times in
which they lived and the present, may be of more general in-
terest as showing something of the effect of the Civil War and
reconstruction period on the science and the scientists of the
south.

The source of the manuscript letters on which the present
notes are based is the correspondence of the late Professor
Edward Tuckerman, Jr., of Amherst, Mass., fortunately pre-
served almost complete and now the property of Professor
Tuckerman’s nephew, Judge E. T. Esty, of Worcester, Mass.,
who has courteously loaned them to the writer for examination
and to whom the writer is much indebted. The correspond-
ence, consisting of over eight hundred letters, dating from 1838
to 1873, is bound in nine quarto volumes and contains letters
from practically all the American and many European bota-
nists of that time.

The subjects of this sketch, the Rev. M. A. Curtis and H. W.
Ravenel, were both distinguished for their contributions to
botany, especially in the field of mycology. They were con-
stant friends and co-laborers and apparently had a voluminous
correspondence. At present only their letters to Tuckerman
are available. Curtis was a native of Massachusetts, born in
Stockbridge and graduated from Williams College. He went
to Wilmington, North Carolina, at the age of twenty-two as
tutor in the family of Governor Dudley. From this time almost
continuously until his death he made his home in the Carolinas.
As to his sympathies during the Civil War his correspondence
gives not the slightest hint.

Ravenel, on the other hand, was of an old southern family,
as he writes Tuckerman in a letter dated ‘Plantation near
Black Oak [S. C.], March 238, 1857.”

158 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

I have a peculiar love for this section of country—my native place,
(here on this very plantation and house, the old family homestead, where
I am now writing) and the home of my friends—Here, for six or eight
generations, since our Hugenot fathers fled from persecution at the revo-
cation of the Edict of Nantes, have the ties of home attachment been grow-
ing and strengthening. ... The graves of our ancestors are here on these
old family seats, and these sacred spots, which had their origin from the
rude state of the frontier settlements have been kept up and used with
pious care. They constitute, together with the traditionary history of
their occupants, an endearing bond with the living, and tend to keep alive
a sentiment of filial love and veneration.

It was here on these very plantations which their descendents still
continue to occupy, that our ancestors cultivated rice and indigo long
anterior to the Revolutionary War. Then, as the scenes of skirmishes and
hostile meetings between the contending parties, during “the times that
tried men’s souls,” they have become classic ground to the historian. It
was here that the “Swamp Fox” Genl. Marion recruited his brigade, when
nearly the whole state was in the hands of the British and tories—and in
the wild fastnesses of the Santee swamp, formed a nucleus of hope to the
desponding patriots.

It is not then surprising that it is from Ravenel, interested
as he was in the history and traditions of his section that we
hear the first suggestion of sectional difficulties. He closes a
letter written, December 31, 1850, with the following para-
graphs:

I have never entertained a doubt that a large portion of the intelligent
and patriotic citizens of the North, whatever they may think of our
domestic institutions, are disposed to be faithful to the compromises of the
constitution and the rights of the States—Could the settlement of this dis-
tracting subject be left to them, I would have confidence in the issue—But
I fear the decision of the question has passed beyond their power—Dema-
gogueism and fanatacism have swept with demoniac fury over the land,
and the voice of reason and patriotism is almost hushed.

The South has loved the Union for the common glories of the past,
and for what might have been the common glorious destiny of the future—
She has made, and would be willing to make great sacrifices for its preser-
vation—But her honor and self-respect she cannot sacrifice. She has not
so learned her lesson of liberty from the great fathers of the republic in
the days of its purity—The future is dark and portentious—and I almost
despair of the integrity of the Union, but it may be that he who has
hitherto so signally blessed and prospered our country may overrule the
wicked machination of its foes.

The differences in national opinion which led Ravenel to
look upon the future as “dark and portentious” were of course
those which arose from the question as to the basis on which
California should be admitted to statehood. Difficulties which
were temporarily settled by the legislation arising from Clay’s
historic “Omnibus Bill,” a settlement which seems to have

TWO SOUTHERN BOTANISTS AND THE CIVIL WAR 159

been satisfactory to Ravenel at least, for during the next ten
years we find no mention of such matters in his letters.

Letters frequently tell as much by what they omit as by
what they include, and it is certainly not without significance
that in the score of letters which passed from each of these
southerners to their northern friend during the years from
1850 to 1860 there is no mention of political affairs. This is
particularly true when it is remembered that this decade was
marked by events which were perhaps the most portentious
through which this country has passed. Within this time
came the birth of the Republican party, with its anti-slavery
platform, the disagreements over the enforcement of the fugi-
tive slave law, John Brown’s raid, and the bitter struggle for
Kansas.

Apparently southern botanists were not interested in poli-
tics. Ravenel’s last letter, written on October 29, 1859, deals,
as had the previous ones, with specimens sent and collections
made and with “the preparation of my fifth century of fungi,”
which he hopes to be able to issue “in the course of a few
months.” Curtis was even less distracted by events not botan-
ical. Though he is disturbed by the failure of the federal gov-
ernment to give proper attention to mycological collections.*

What a pity that Government does not employ Curators for the preser-
vation and judicious distribution of its collections, instead of leaving them
to be eaten by insects, or stolen by unprincipled visitors. There is a large
mass of duplicates among the Fungi now in my hands. How are they
ever to be distributed properly, without an officer employed for the pur-
pose, and one who has some knowledge of such matters.

On July 16, 1860, he writes asking Tuckerman’s help in
preparing a complete list of plants for the state geological
survey :

I am preparing, in connection with our Geological Survey, a list of the
Plants of this State. I desire to make it as accurate and complete as pos-
sible, and that end will be far nearer attained, if I can have your assist-
ance. I send you a list of all the Lichens I know of, belonging to this
State, about one-half, I suppose of the actual number. I presume you can
add a good many....

My first Report (on the Woody Plants of N. Car.) in a small pamph-
let, should be published about this time, and I have ordered a copy to you.

During September, 1860, on the eve of Lincoln’s election,
Curtis interviews the Governor of North Carolina on a subject

°

far from political and writes his friend Tuckerman as follows :*
Yesterday I had an interview with our Governor, and told him that I

1 Letter dated March 10, 1859.
2 Letter dated September 12, 1860.

160 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

had rather wait till the end of the current year before making another
Report. As he assented to my humor, I can give you an opportunity of
adding anything that may come to your notice between this and next De-
cember. So, please to consider your Report as open till that date for any
additions or corrections.

Even later educational and scientific problems seems to have
filled his mind, for in October he made a trip to Tennessee, the
purpose of which he outlines in a letter dated “Oct. 23d, 1860.”

You appear to have inferred that I went westward for “ explorations.”
So far from this, I had no time for them at all, and collected not a solitary
specimen except what I now enclose, which I hastily gathered en passant.
My journeys westward for the last three or four years (in Aug. 1859 to
Tenn; in Feb. last, to N. Orleans, and now again to Tenn.) are in con-
nection with “The University of the South,” of which I have been a
Trustee from the beginning. The corner stone was laid on the 10th with
much ceremony, and in the presence of about 5000 persons.

The closing days of 1860 find our botanists deeply engrossed
in their favorite pursuits, Ravenel busy with the preparation
of another volume of his Exsiccati and in collecting “ likenesses
of American and European Botanists”; Curtis at work per-
fecting his list of plants for the State Geological Survey and
urging upon the governor their proper publication; and both
all the while sending from the heart of the Carolinas to their
friend Tuckerman in abolition Massachusetts, specimens of
lichens, personal photographs, notes on plants collected and ex-
changed, together with delightfully intimate friendly letters
full of good wishes and encouragement, and congratulation on
his published work.

Here follow five years of silence, broken so far as this cor-
respondence is concerned by only a single southern letter,*
which is of interest as bringing out the condition of science in
the south during the war.

Since the war I have very much fallen behind a respectable knowledge
of scientific progress in your department. Scientific pursuits are pretty
much suspended in the South now—Minerva, Apollo and the peaceful
Deities are driven from our Camps and only Mars remains.

Southern opinions and Southern purposes you will learn from our
Newspapers—they do no credit to your Courage or your Conduct. What
the result will be, God only knows; but I fear that it will be only the de-
struction of the best Government in the world and the substitution of the
Jiff Davis Dynasty in its stead. Mr. Lincoln’s management is wretchedly
stupid and inefficient and will end badly, I fear.

The letter just quoted was written March 15, 1863, more

3 This letter was written to Tuckerman by Thos. Peters, a lawyer and
amateur botanist of Moulton, Alabama. He was a friend and correspond-
ent of Curtis, Ravenel, and Tuckerman.

TWO SOUTHERN BOTANISTS AND THE CIVIL WAR 161

than three months before the battle of Gettysburg. It is prob-
able that Peters’s attitude reflects that of many observers, both
north and south, as to the probable success of the Confederacy.
Grant and Lee met at Appomattox on April 9, 1865. On
August 26, 1865, Ravenel wrote his friend Tuckerman what he
characterizes as “the first note written beyond our lines.”

The bloody drama is over—and the four years of carnage is com-
pleted! The curtain now rises upon a new scene. What has occurred
during these years that we have been shut out from the outside world?
Are my old friends with whom I used to converse so agreeably in former
times, still in their accustomed place and occupation, or have changes
occurred? These and other questions of like import, have made me feel
anxious to hear once more from you and others of my former correspond-
ence. Mail communication is now partially resumed, (at least sufficiently
so to send a letter through Charleston) and I indite this my first note
written beyond our lines to my friend Tuckerman.

Plurimam do Salutem. We are no longer enemies by law, and I send
you my greetings.

I cannot know, nor do I ask what your opinions and predelictions have
been during the continuance of this bloody struggle. It is over—and its
records are made. It has pleased the great Umpire of nations in the order
of his Providence, that the Southern Confederacy should not accomplish
the object for which they sought. So be it. I accept the issue as from
His hands—and am content.

This attitude on Ravenel’s part should by no means be taken
to indicate that he had not suffered from the war or that he was
not athorough partisan; farther on in the same letter he writes:

All my sympathies have been for our success. I believed the time had
come when our country, overgrown in territory (as I supposed) and with
discordant and conflicting interests, would best accomplish its destiny
under two separate and independent governments. It has been otherwise
ordered by the Great Ruler of nations. I submit without discontent, be-
cause I know that infinite wisdom cannot err. I accept the verdict ren-
dered, and in good faith intend to do all that the duties and obligations of
a good citizen may require.

I have lost all my property, and must henceforth seek some employ-
ment for the support of my family.

The deplorable state of affairs can scarcely be appreciated. Accus-
tomed as we have been in this new country to abundance of the necessaries
of life, we had come to think of destitution and famine as evils only be-
longing to the old world. The reality has been brought home to us—and
many a family who lived in affluence, now scarcely knows from day to day,
the means of living.

His poverty was real, for he plans to sell his farm, his books,
even his herbarium, and asks Tuckerman to help find a pur-

VOL. Ix.—11.

162 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

chaser, but even more eloquently than his words do the poor
quality of the paper and especially of the ink which he uses in
these letters bespeak the poverty of the man and of his section.
The war had evidently forced his favorite pursuit from his
attention, and his concluding paragraph contains the remark,

I have done nothing during the war in Botany. Other matters were
too absorbing.

War influenced Curtis’s studies also, for his first letter to
Tuckerman concluded with this paragraph:

During the late war I paid no attention to Botany, except to the
edible Mushrooms, from which I have gotten many a substantial and
luxurious meal. My experience in this way, and that of several families
about me to whom I imparted the knowledge I had acquired, have induced
the belief that I might serve the public by a publication of what I know
on the subject. Should I succeed in finding a Publisher, I shall be happy
to send you a copy.

Evidently botanists have always done their bit in the case
of a food shortage.

Reconstruction days were not favorable for the publication
of scientific matter. On February 5, 1866, he writes:

My “ Mycophagia Americana” hangs fire for the present on account
of the enormous cost of publication. Prof. Gray has the thing in hand,
and thinks prices will fall after a while, and that I shall have to wait. I
have been ready with material these four or five months.

P. S. Some five years ago you were kind enough to arrange a list of
N. Carolina Lichens for me towards a complete list of the Plants of this
State. The war broke out soon after, and the printing of my Reports on
the Nat. Hist. of N. Car: was suspended. When it will be resumed I
know not. In our present poverty, and with our enormous taxes, I doubt
if our present Legislature will give any attention to so insignificant a
matter, though I have addressed the Governor on the subject. If it is
ever printed, and I mean that it shall be, you shall have a copy of course.

Imagine the feelings of the Governor of North Carolina
during the first days of reconstruction being urged to publish
a list of plants! The matter is referred to the state legislature
which takes the action on this matter of publication that might
be expected and a few weeks later Curtis reports :*

Since my last, I have recd. a communication from a Committee of our
Legislature, proposing that I should publish my Catalogue of N. C. Plants,
and a new edition of the “ Woody Plants of N. C.” on my own account.
Our poverty and heavy taxes make the Legislature very chary about bur-
dening the State with even the small amount of such publications. I pre-
fer that the State should do the work; but if it will not, I believe I will
run the risk of some loss upon the Catalogue which I am very anxious to
have in print.

4Letter dated Feb. 22/66.

TWO SOUTHERN BOTANISTS AND THE CIVIL WAR 163

It is pleasant to be able to record that this list of plants was
finally published by the state (1867).

Ravenel’s letters from 1866 until the correspondence closes
are a record of struggle against the dangers and difficulties of
the reconstruction period, the unaccustomed task of earning a
living for his family, and most depressing of all a struggle
against ill health. On November 8, 1865, he writes:

With respect to my collections nothing but a sense of necessity would
induce me to part with them. I have half relented already in my inten-
tions of selling, and hope the necessity may not arise. We suffered much
during the war from privations of all kinds, and especially towards its
close—but we endured these hardships, cheerfully hoping for honorable
peace to come in time. At its close we found ourselves suddenly brought
to poverty,—and our hopes destroyed by its termination so different from
what was expected—Still our people were satisfied to accept the issue, and
in good faith to abide by the decision against us. We took the oath of
allegiance and were prepared to do our duty and fulfill all our obligations
as good citizens. It was during the two or three months succeeding the
surrender of our army, that the southern people were compelled to pass
through the most trying ordeal and to drink the bitter cup of humiliation
to its dregs. The military leaders offered us terms which were honorable
and which were accepted in good faith. We were prepared to renew our
allegiance, and accept the terms which had been offered with the best in-
tentions of forgetting the past and healing old animosities. The terms
were repudiated by the civil authorities and we were subjected to military
government of the most odious kind. Troops of black savages with arms
in their hands were quartered in every town and village, to maltreat and
insult us, and to stir up the slaves to revolt and insurrection. Wherever
these black troops were sent, they created disaffection among the negroes,
and incited them to leave their homes—thus causing vagabondism, idleness,
and mischief. They had not been here 12 hours before they had a riot at
one of our churches on the Sabbath during prayer hours, the day after
that they entered a widow lady’s house to insult and abuse her, and on her
son’s going to headquarters to report the fact, he was knocked down and
nearly murdered in hearing of their officers. Ladies were abused and
cursed in the streets, and no redress (sufficient to stop such conduct)
could be obtained. There was real danger for a while of the negroes being
stirred up to acts of bloodshed and murder. These and other atrocities
We were compelled to bear without the means of redress and apparently
without hope of amelioration. It was then that I wished to leave the
country and go anywhere, where law and order prevailed. I am glad to
say that a much better state of things now prevails. The military authori-
ties have removed the black troops, and the negroes are quiet and orderly.

And again in March, 1866, he exclaims:

We are charged with disloyal feelings and with a desire to oppress the
freedmen unless restrained. There is positively no truth in either of these
charges. Our people have with most wonderful unanimity, accepted the
issues of the war as final and irreversible. They struggled manfully for
four years and put forth their entire strength and resources in the fight,

164 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

because they conscientiously believed they were battling in the cause of
Civil Liberty for a great principle, the right of Self Government. The
fortunes of war have been decided against them. They failed after all
their efforts for independence, and now as a law-abiding people who have
been trained in the school of constitutional government, they are willing
to abide by the issue in good faith and give their allegiance to the govt
which protects them and under which they are to live. I am sure that 99
per cent of our people hold these views. That there still continues to
exist in some quarters, ill feelings toward the Govt.—that the sense of
injuries and of suffering should still linger in some breasts—that is only
what we might expect. It would be miraculous, were it otherwise, so
long as human nature remains as it is. But with the great mass of the
people, these feelings do not exist—and their existence in the few can do
no harm. They will gradually disappear under the healing influence of
time. A great nation victorious and triumphant everywhere, without a
solitary foe to dispute her power, may well exercise clemency in dealing
with the harmless vagaries of a few discontented spirits.

Yet such is his friendship for Tuckerman that he is able to
write in the same letter:

Your last letter received some time ago, gave me much pleasure. I
have not replied sooner simply because there was nothing especially to
call for a reply except to tell you how highly I appreciate the kind feelings
evinced towards me personally—and the very liberal and Christian spirit
in which you regard the late national chastisements.

During 1867 there are no letters, but on January 12, 1868,
he “interrupts the silence” with “A New Year’s Greeting”
and adds:

I would like to hear once more from you. Your letters are always
welcome, instructive and interesting. They remind me of the times when
I was more engaged in botany than I am now, or can ever hope to be again.
I have now at least the satisfaction of these pleasant reminiscences, and
the hope that my labors may have contributed somewhat to botanical
science. What have you accomplished in the year passed? And what
progress is made in your work on N. Am. Lichens. I suppose your
Exsiccati is not yet out or I should have heard from you.

Please give me a line and tell me of your labors. I am still interested
in botany though I can very little afford any time for its pursuit. It is
now a struggle for subsistence.

During the next month he refers more at length to his pov-
erty and that of his section. (Letter dated Feb. 21st, 1868.)

You say “you trust I am not weaned from botany.” I still linger on
the outskirts (as it were)—but am compelled from necessity to do what-
ever comes to my hand, to get my daily bread. I suppose you can form
but a faint idea of the universal destitution prevailing throughout the
Southern States. All are in poverty. . .. No capital will venture here
while this state of things continues—and there is nothing left to our own
people to begin the work of rebuilding their broken fortunes. . . . I feel like
a shipwrecked mariner who has been cast upon a desert coast, and forced

TWO SOUTHERN BOTANISTS AND THE CIVIL WAR 165

to subsist on whatever may be washed ashore and on the crude sustenance
to be found at hand. ...I once had a sufficiency to follow my inclinations,
and avoid the tracks of trade. ...I get a comfortable living (by using
great economy) in selling vegetables from my garden and doing a little
wood cutting for the railroad, disposing of such books as I can best spare
and occasionally selling one of my botanical collections (those collected for
the purpose of sale.) I have not touched my herbarium and intend to
hold on to that. ... Do not understand me as murmuring, or complaining
of my lot. It is only that of thousands of others. Indeed I have daily
cause of thankfulness to a kind Providence which has so signally blessed
me. With my large family (10) in number) to provide for, I cannot
avoid at times feeling anxiety. .. . Excuse me for dwelling too much upon
matters which are painful to hear of. They occupy so much of my
thoughts that they find expression but too readily. I always train myself
to look at the cheerful side,—and am still in hopes that the dark clouds
that overhang us, will soon pass away. At any rate, we know that the
sun still shines beyond, and that in good time its genial rays will enliven
and bless our land.

Scattered letters through 1869 mention a continued interest
and, so far as circumstances permitted, activity in the botanical
field. During the early months of 1870 he seems to have ren-
dered Tuckerman considerable assistance by sending specimens
of southern lichens, but under what difficulties is shown by two
letters written during March.®

I have been occupying myself lately in making up sets of Lichens
which I shall dispose of. I am under the necessity of doing this or else
abandoning Botany altogether and seeking some other occupation that will
give me a living.

You must excuse me if I send you the same things over under differ-
ent names,—and some of which ought to be familiar to me. I have scarcely
opened my Vol. of Lichens in the last 12 or 15 years,—and this last sad
decade has mostly driven my thoughts from botany. And moreover I have
parted with my microscope, and though I have the use of it whenever I
want, I find the powers are not high enough for a satisfactory examina-
tion—(the smaller lens being worn out) and there are so many of the
new species not yet described that I am often perplexed how to decide.
... In making up my sets for sale, I think two good objects may be accom-
plished—one to furnish me with a little addition to my scanty means—
and the other to enable those who are interested in the study to obtain our
Southern Lichens.

Throughout the difficult years following the war, his love
of botanical study and his friendship for Tuckerman seems to
have remained among Ravenel’s chief pleasures. His last im-
portant letter to Tuckerman (written May 3, 1870) concludes
with the following paragraph:

My chief converse and entertainment is with my correspondents, who
like yourself and one or two others, have been rambling the same pathway

5 Letters dated March 2 and March 22, 1870.

166 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of life for now a quarter of a century. To me, the reminiscences of these
earlier pursuits are exceedingly pleasant,—and a long and uninterrupted
friendly intercourse, give additional strength to the bonds of a friendship
established on common pursuits and sympathies. These are the things
which make the retrospect of life grateful to us—and nerve us to higher
aims and objects.—The asperities of political strife trouble me but little.
I try to live in an atmosphere above them and to look on all these move-
ments as the trickery of the political.

The scientists of to-day face a reconstruction period in in-
ternational affairs perhaps no less trying than were those of
1865 to ’70 in national affairs. It is possible that now as in
’65 “the first note written beyond our lines” will come from
scientists recently counted as “enemy,” but who before the war
were in close touch with this country. And it is to be expected
that American answers will be such that correspondents will
with Ravenel “appreciate the kind feelings evinced toward
them personally,—and the very liberal spirit” in which we re-
gard the late international chastisements.

WILLIAM RAMSAY 167

WILLIAM RAMSAY
By BENJAMIN HARROW, Ph.D.

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

N that elegant tribute to Ramsay, written in the days when
iE comradeship between the scientists of England and Ger-
many was close, Ostwald summarizes him as one belonging to
the romantic type in science. Romantic he was, for his imagi-
nation was unlimited. The secret of Ramsay’s great triumphs
lay in the fact that with this imagination there was a well-
balanced knowledge of the science, with a seer’s insight into
the significance of its laws. Bold in the conception of a prob-
lem, he was brilliant beyond comparison in its execution. With
no fetish to hold him, with the mantle of the prophet about him,
and with amazing manipulative skill, he laid bare, in rapid suc-
cession, a regular little battalion of new gases in the atmos-
phere, followed by transmutation experiments which made the
scientific world gasp and hold its breath in expectancy of the
next dare-devil leap.

This genius, born in Glasgow in 1852, did not spring from
any geniuses, but, like many another man of talent, his stock
was of a fairly ordinary type. To be sure, there was an uncle
with a reputation as a geologist, and the father had some sci-
entific tastes, but nothing at all to warrant such outpourings
in the offspring. When eleven years old he joined the Third
Latin Class of the Glasgow Academy, and during the three suc-
ceeding years at the institution he did little Latin, gained no
prizes, and did much dreaming. Ramsay describes himself in
a short autobiography as “to a certain extent precocious,
though idle and dreamy youngster.” This fits in with Ost-
wald’s theory of the genius: ‘“ The precociousness is a practi-
cally universal phenomenon of incipient genius, and the dreamy
quality indicates that original production of thought which lies
at the basis of all creative activity.” Even thus early he
evinced a passion for languages, for it is recorded that during
sermon time at church he read the French and German texts
of the Bible and translated them into English. In after years,
as president of an international scientific gathering, he would
astound the assembly by addressing them successively in
French, German and Italian.

168 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

His introduction to chemistry came in quite an unexpected
way. <A football skirmish resulted in his breaking a leg, and
to lessen the monotony of convalescence, Ramsay read Graham’s
“Chemistry,” with the object, as he frankly confesses, of learn-
ing how to make fireworks. During the next four years his
bedroom was full of bottles and test-tubes, and often full of
strange odors and of startling noises. But systematic chemis-
try was not taken up till 1869, three years after he had entered
the University of Glasgow. Then, it seems, the passion came
on, and with it, a passion for the cognate science, physics.
This resulted in an introduction to William Thompson (later
Lord Kelvin), the then professor, who set the youngster upon
the elevating task of getting the “kinks” out of a bundle of
copper wire, an operation which lasted a week. It is to be pre-
sumed that Thompson was favorably impressed with the man-
ner in which this piece of research was carried out, for Ramsay
was immediately introduced to a quadrant electrometer and
asked to study its construction and use.

A year’s introductory study of chemistry decided Ramsay
upon his career, and with his parents’ blessing he set out for
Heidelberg in 1870, to be exchanged for Tiibingen some months
later. In Tiibingen ruled Fittig, whose lectures were “ distinct
and clear,” whose scholarship was sound, and whose research
was methodical. The two years spent at Tiibingen were full
of work and no play. “I was up this morning,” he writes to
his father “‘ at 5.30 and studied and took my breakfast from 6
to 7,—a class from 7 to 8, one from 8 to 9, and 9 to 3 laboratory
(I lunch now to have more time for work, and don’t dine till 6),
and from 8 to 5 I studied, then from 5 to 6 lecture, and then I
dined. And now at 8 I must start again.” And so this was
kept up—all the time, curiously enough, with emphasis on or-
ganic chemistry, a branch of the science which Ramsay almost
wholly abandoned in his later and most productive years—till
the time for the Ph.D. examination. “On Monday at 7 it
began and lasted till half-past 12; then in the afternoon from
3 to 8, so we had a good spell of it.””. The questions in chemis-
try were: (a) the resemblances and differences between the
compounds of carbon and silicon, and (6) the relation between
glycerine and its newer derivatives and the other compounds
containing three atoms of carbon; in physics: (a) the different
methods for determining the specific gravity of gases and va-
pors, and (b) the phenomena which may be observed in crystals
in polarized light.

WILLIAM RAMSAY 169

I managed to answer the first perfectly, the second, however, not so
well, and the two questions in physics pretty well. Then to-night we had
the oral exam. The five professors who compose the faculty were there.
Fittig gave some very difficult questions. Reusch (physics), on the other
hand, very easy ones. . . . We had to dress up and put on white kids, and
I had to get a “tile” especially for the occasion. Then we were sent out
after the exam. for about five minutes and were then called in and for-
mally told we had passed.

A dissertation on “toluic and nitrotoluic acids,” which gave
no glimpse of the future before him, completed Ramsay’s Ph.D.
requirements, and he returned to Glasgow, where he became
assistant in the Young Laboratory of Technical Chemistry.
And now Ramsay had to turn his attention from organic to
inorganic chemistry, for most of the courses at the technical
school were devoted to the latter. Though the physico-chem-
istry background was entirely lacking, and therefore the knowl-
edge obtained could hardly have been more than miscellaneous,
innumerable facts were picked up and stored for future refer-
ence. An opening as tutorial assistant at Glasgow University
offered the possibilities of a more congenial academic atmos-
phere, and also the hope of continuing his interrupted research
in organic chemistry.

The cellars of the University Laboratory contained a large collection
of fractions of “ Dippel-Oil’” prepared by Professor Thomas Anderson.
These were regarded by Ferguson (his successor), whose interest in Chem-
istry was almost entirely that of an antiquary, more or less in the light
of museum specimens, and he was horrified when Ramsay suggested that
he should be allowed to “investigate” them, but he eventually gave way
to Ramsay’s importunity. The result was a very substantial addition to
our knowledge of the pyridine bases and their derivatives.?

The chemistry of dyes and explosives was not to be his life
work. How he turned from this to the more mathematical
branch of the subject is ascribed by Ramsay himself to prob-
lems he encountered in attempts to determine the molecular
weights of some of his organic compounds by the Victor Meyer
vapor density method. But we must also add that Ramsay,
with that instinct for detecting the truly important among a
mass of new theories and facts, which was one of his greatest
assets, early foresaw the part the new science of physical chem-
istry would play in the development of chemistry. Thus he
was one of the earliest in England to appreciate the true sig-
nificance of Guldberg and Waage’s “law of mass action,” just
as, at a later date, he was among the first to seize upon and
translate Van’t Hoff’s celebrated paper on the analogy between

2“ Sir James Dobbie” (68), p. 48.

170 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the state of substance in solution and the same when in a state
of gas. The Victor Meyer method suggested to him experi-
ments on the volume of liquids at their boiling point, and this
in turn gave rise to a whole series of new possibilities, the ex-
perimental side of which kept him and his collaborators, par-
ticularly Young and Shields, busy even after he had settled in
University College years later.*

For six years Ramsay remained assistant at Glasgow Uni-
versity, and though during that time he had been a candidate
for several chairs and lectureships, nothing came of any of
them. So discouraged did he become that there was much dis-
cussion in the family as to the advisability of starting business
as a chemical manufacturer. But before this scheme could be
put into execution a vacancy at University College, Bristol, pre-
sented itself. The story goes that his knowledge of Dutch
saved the day. According to this account one of the members
of the university council, a minister, was much perplexed with
a Dutch text in his possession, and Ramsay volunteered a trans-
lation. The result was Ramsay’s appointment by a majority
of one. The stipend was fixed at a minimum of £400 ($2,000)
per year. The contract read:

The professor will be required to give three lectures per week for the
first two terms, say 60 lectures, together with class instruction in connec-
tion therewith . . . and a short course of lectures in the third term. He
will also be required to superintend the laboratory during the whole ses-
sion, and to give evening lectures once a week during the first two terms,
together with class instruction in connection therewith. ... The scheme
of the college contemplates the possibility of occasional lectures being
delivered in neighboring towns by the Professor or his assistant. ... In
connection with the Cloth working Industry, special instruction in dyeing,
etc., may be required under an arrangement not yet concluded with the
worshipful the Cloth-workers’ Company of London.

The professor, not yet turned thirty, was to be kept busy on
the job, with very little opportunity for research—an altogether
minor consideration to the worthy councillors. But they had
not reckoned on Ramsay’s energy and capacity. Determina-
tions of the density of gases, of the specific volumes of liquids
at their boiling point, of the vapor pressures and critical con-
stants of liquids were soon in full blast. And then came those

2It was while blowing the bulbs used in this research (the volumes
of liquids at their boiling point), I believe, that he first became aware of
the asset he possessed for physical work in his skill as a glass-blower. He
had learnt the art at Tiibingen, although it was only in his later researches
that his marvellous manipulative power was fully developed.—Sir James
Dobbie.

WILLIAM RAMSAY 171

classical determinations on the thermal properties of solids and
liquids, and on evaporation and dissociation, most of which was
done with his assistant, Young, which continued at full blast
for the next five years until Ramsay’s transfer to London.
This appointment came in 1887. By that time Ramsay’s repu-
tation was such that the following year he was elected an F.R.S.
(Fellow of the Royal Society).

In London his physico-chemical researches were further ex-
tended. Among these particular mention should be made of
perhaps the most brilliant of them all—the measurement of
surface tension up to the critical temperature, which led to the
well-known law supplying us with a method for determining
the molecular weight of liquids. Here Ramsay had an able
assistant in Shields.

In 1890 the British Association met at Leeds, and two of
the great continental founders of modern physical chemistry,
Van’t Hoff and Ostwald, were present. Ramsay, who repre-
sented the school in England, naturally took a keen interest in
this meeting.

Ramsay and Ostwald met for the first time as fellow-guests in my
house, which became accordingly a sort of cyclonic center of the polemical
storm that raged during the whole week. . . . The discussion was inces-
sant. ...I remember conducting a party to Fountains Abbey on the
Saturday and hearing nothing but talk of the ionic theory amid the beau-
ties of Studley Royal. The climax, however, was reached the next day,
Sunday. The discussion began at luncheon when Fitzgerald raised the
question of the molecular integrity of the salt in the soup and walked
round the table with a diagram to confound Van’t Hoff and Ostwald... .
Ramsay was no silent spectator. Being a convinced ionist, he was eager
in helping out the expositions of Ostwald, whose English at that time was
imperfect and explosive, and his wit and humor played over the whole
proceedings. . . . It was the beginning of relations of great mutual sym-
pathy and regard between Ramsay and Ostwald, which lasted till they
were divided by their respective national sympathies at the unhappy out-
break of war.*

And now we come to a momentous event in the career of
our hero. Lord Raleigh had for some time been engaged in
determinations of the exact densities of a number of gases.
Among these was nitrogen. In his experiments Raleigh found
that the density of nitrogen obtained from the air was slightly
but consistently higher than that obtained from artificial
sources. Writing to Natwre (1892) he says:

I am much puzzled by some results as to the density of nitrogen and
shall be obliged if any of your chemical readers can offer suggestions as

4 Professor Smithells.

172 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to the cause. According to two methods of preparation I obtain quite
distinct values. The relative difference, amounting to about 1/1,000th
part, is small in itself; but it lies entirely outside the errors of experiment.

The difference in the weights of one liter of the gas obtained
in the one case from atmospheric air and in the other from
ammonia varied by about 6 in 1,200, or about 0.5 per cent., but
the accuracy of the method did not involve an error of more
than 0.02 per cent.

With that keen scent for any promising material Ramsay
immediately took up the problem. Some years previously he
had found that nitrogen is absorbed fairly readily by mag-
nesium. This suggested to him that by first getting rid of the
oxygen in the air, and passing the remaining nitrogen repeat-
edly over heated magnesium, any other gas that might possibly
be present in the atmosphere would remain unabsorbed. This
unabsorbed gas was isolated and found to give a characteristic
spectrum. The name argon was given to the newly discovered
ingredient of the atmosphere. It proved to be more refractory
than the comparatively inert nitrogen: it just simply would not
make friends and combine with any other element!

Shortly after this Ramsay’s attention was called to some ex-
periments of Hillebrand, of the U. S. Geological Survey, in
which he obtained a gas believed to be nitrogen from certain
minerals, particularly one called clevite, but which was now
suspected to contain argon as well. Ramsay lost no time.
From it he obtained argon, to be sure, but also another gas,
with a spectrum all its own, which showed it to be identical
with an element present in the chromosphere of the sun, and
which until then had been considered peculiar to the sun.
Lockyer years ago gave the name “helium” to it, and now
Ramsay had rediscovered it on mother earth. But let the dis-
coverer tell the exciting news. On the 24th of March, 1895, he
writes to his wife:®

Let’s take the biggest piece of news first. I bottled the new gas ina
vacuum tube, and arranged so that I could see its spectrum and that of
argon in the same spectroscope at the same time. There is argon in the
gas; but there was a magnificent yellow line, brilliantly bright, not coin-

5 Ramsay married Margaret, daughter of George Stevenson Buchanan,
in August, 1881, soon after he had been appointed principal of Bristol
College—a position he attained one year after his arrival in Bristol. This
union proved a particularly happy one. “To have such a helpmate as
my wife has brought me happiness which I must acknowledge with the
greatest thankfulness.” And at a later date he wrote to a friend: “ You
have got a good son and daughter and that is much to rejoice at. So
have I.”

WILLIAM RAMSAY 173

cident with but very close to the sodium yellow line. I was puzzled, but
began to smell a rat. I told Crookes, and on Saturday morning when
Harley, Shields,7 and I were looking at the spectrum in the dark room a
telegram came from Crookes. He had sent a copy here® and I enclose
that copy. You may wonder what it means. Helium is the name given
to a line in the solar spectrum, known to belong to an element, but that
element has hitherto been unknown on earth. ... It is quite overwhelm-
ing and beats argon. I telegraphed to Berthelot? at once yesterday—
“Gaz obtenu par moi clevite mélange argon helium. Crookes identifie
spectre. Faites communication Académie lundi—Ramsay.”...I have
written Lord Rayleigh and I’ll send a note to the R.S. (Royal Society)
to-morrow....

The first public account of helium was given to a semi-
bewildered audience at the annual meeting of the Chemical So-
ciety, 1895, on the occasion of the presentation of the Faraday
medal to Lord Raleigh. Further investigations proved that
helium was not only a terrestrial element, but also occurred in
quite a number of minerals and mineral waters. To Kayser,
however, was left the proof of its presence in the air. Like
argon it simply refused to combine with any other substance.

To the ancients air was a source of investigation, and it had
remained so. Till 1894 no one, least of all a scientist,’° would
have suspected the existence in the atmosphere of undiscovered
elements. Ramsay and Raleigh’s discovery shook the scientific
world. Recognition came from all parts. Lord Kelvin, as
president of the Royal Society, presented Ramsay with the
Davy Medal, with the following comment:

. . . The researches on which the award of the Davy Medal to Pro-
fessor Ramsay is chiefly founded are, firstly, those which he has carried
on, in conjunction with Lord Raleigh, in the investigation of the prop-
erties of argon, and in the discovery of unproved and rapid methods of
getting it from the atmosphere; and secondly, the discovery in certain
rare minerals, of a new elementary gas which appears to be identical with
the hitherto hypothetical solar element, to which Mr. Lockyer many years
ago gave the name of “helium.” . . . The conferring of the Davy Medal
on Professor Ramsay is a crowning act of recognition of his work on
argon and helium which has already been recognised as worthy of honor
by scientific societies in other countries. For his discoveries of these
gases he has already been awarded the Foreign Membership of the Société
Philosophique de Genéve and of the Leyden Philosophical Society. He has
had the Barnard Medal of Columbia College awarded to him by the Ameri-
can Academy of Sciences, and within the last few weeks he has been
elected a Foreign Correspondent of the French Académie des Sciences.

6 Sir William Crookes, the famous physicist.

7 His two assistants.

812 Arundel Gardens, their home.

9 A famous French chemist.

10 Cavendish, in 1785, did suspect some such possibility.

174 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Such was the excitement aroused by these discoveries that
even young students were filled with the epidemic. We are
told that “answers to examination questions showed that oxy-
gen as a constituent of our air was almost forgotten in the
anxiety on the part of the candidate to show that he or she
knew all about argon.” But Ramsay had not yet sufficiently
dumfounded his scientific confréres. From a careful study of
Mendeleefi’s periodic grouping of the elements he came to the
conclusion that another inert gas ought to exist between helium
and argon, employing a process of reasoning quite analogous to
one used by the celebrated Russian many years before when,
with the help of his periodic table, he predicted the discovery
of new elements. Ramsay ransacked every possible source for
this new element: minerals from all parts of the globe, mineral
waters from Britain, France and Iceland; meteorites from in-
terstellar space—all without result. A clue was at length ob-
tained when he found that by diffusion argon could be sepa-
rated into a lighter and heavier portion. This suggested the
presence of the unknown gas as an impurity in argon. It was
evident that the unknown gas, if present, could be there in mi-
nute quantities only to have escaped detection. That meant
that the larger the quantity of argon employed the better the
possibilities of getting appreciable quantities of the unknown
constituent.

A simple method of separating the constituents in a mix-
ture of liquids is to boil the mixture, and collect fractions of
the condensed vapor. Each constituent will usually go off at
a fairly definite temperature. This, in principle, was the
method employed by Ramsay and his assistant, Travers. They
prepared, to begin with, no less than fifteen liters of liquid
argon!

On distilling liquid argon, the first portions of the gas to boil off were
found to be lighter than argon; and on allowing the liquid air to boil off
slowly, heavier gases came off at last. It was easy to recognise these
gases by help of the spectroscope, for the light gas, to which we gave the
name neon or “the new one,” when electrically excited emits a brilliant
flame colored light; and one of the heavy gases, which we called Krypton
or “the hidden one,” is characterised by two brilliant lines, one in the
yellow and one in the green part of the spectrum. The third gas, named

senon or “the stranger” gives out a greenish-blue light, and is remark-
able for a very complex spectrum in which blue lines are conspicuous.

A trio, neon, xenon, krypton, added to helium and argon—
making five new gases—and all in the atmosphere!

Further recognition came from the Chemical Society of
London. They awarded Ramsay the Longstaff medal, given

WILLIAM RAMSAY 175

triennially to the Fellow of the Chemical Society who, in the
opinion of the Council, has done the most to promote chemical
science by research. “If I may say a word of disparagement,”
added Mr. Vernon Harcourt, the president, in presenting the
medal, “it is,’—and here we can see the twinkle in his eye—
“that these elements (argon, helium, etc.) are hardly worthy
of the position in which they are placed. If other elements
were of the same unsociable character chemistry would not
exist.”

Ramsay’s studies on helium led him to ponder over this
question: why is helium only found in minerals which contain
uranium and thorium—substances which give rise to radio-
active phenomena? Attempts to answer this led him into the
field of radio-activity, with results which even surpassed his
investigations on the inert gases of the atmosphere. In 1903,
in conjunction with Soddy, he succeeded in proving that helium,
an element, could be produced from radium, another element.
The transmutation of the elements come to life again! Those
poor, foolish old alchemists, we were always led to believe,
wasted their lives in vain attempts to transmute the baser
metals into gold. And here comes the dashing Ramsay, bold,
as usual, to audacity, and calmly announces that his experi-
ments prove the alchemists not to have been such fools after
all! Succeeding experiments on the action of radium salts on
copper and lead solutions led Ramsay to believe that copper
and lead can undergo disintegration into sodium and lithium,
respectively—two entirely different elements! These latter
claims still wait to be verified, but there is reasonable hope for
_ assuming that various experimenters throughout the world will
soon undertake the task of carefully repeating the entire work,
now that peace is once again with us.

A fitting award for these achievements was the bestowal of
the Nobel Prize to Ramsay in 1904. The distribution of the
prizes took place in Stockholm on December 10 of that year, in
the presence of King Oscar and the royal family, foreign minis-
ters and members of the cabinet, and many leading representa-
tives of science, art and literature. After speeches had been
delivered by the vice-president and other representatives of the
Nobel Committee, and of the academies of science, medicine
and literature, King Oscar personally presented Lord Rayleigh
(prize winner in physics), Sir William Ramsay": (chemistry)
and Professor Pavlov (physiology) with their prizes, together

11 Ramsay had been created a Knight Commander of the Bath (K.C.B.)
in 1902, which carried with it the title of “ Sir.”

176 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

with diplomas and gold medals.** The distribution of the prizes
was followed by a banquet, at which the Crown Prince presided.
Count Morner proposed the health of Professor Pavloff, Pro-
fessor Petterson that of Sir William Ramsay, and Professor
Hasselberg that of Lord Rayleigh. The following day Ramsay
delivered a lecture on argon and helium at the Academy of Sci-
ences, which was followed by a dinner given in his honor by
King Osear. Writing from Switzerland to a friend some weeks
later Ramsay says:

We had a most gorgeous time for nearly a week, dining with all the
celebrities, including old King Oscar. The old gentleman was very kindly
and took Lord R. and me into his private room and showed us all his
curiosities, the portraits of his sons when they were children and his
reliques of Gustavus Adolphus and of Charles XII. The Crown Prince
told Mag (his wife) that it was a difficult job to be a king, thereby con-
firming the Swan of Avon. He said that whatever one supposed a Nor-
wegian would do he invariably did the opposite. Indeed there was nearly
a bloodless revolution while we were there; the Prime Minister of Norway
was there and I believe the dilemma was only postponed.

Ramsay remained at University College until 1912, when
he retired. Two years prior to this, in conjunction with Dr.
Gray, he determined the density of the emanation obtained
from radium (which Ramsay named “niton”) involving the
mastery of experimental detail which established him once for
all as the great wizard of the laboratory. The total volume of
the gas under examination was not much beyond 1/10 cubic
millimeter—a bubble which can scarcely be seen. To weigh
this amount at all accurately required a balance turning with a
load not greater than 1/100,000 milligram. When war broke
out Ramsay placed his services at the disposal of the govern-
ment. Much he could not do. In July, 1915, he writes to a
friend that he had had several huge polypi extracted from his
left nostril. “I have stood them for years, one gets into the
habit of bearing discomforts, but it is a great relief.’ The
relief was to be only temporary. Another operation became
necessary in November.

I was in the surgeon’s hands on November 10th and again on the 13th,
and he did an operation on my left antrum for a tumor, I believe very
successfully. Since then, last Monday, I was irradiated for 24 hrs. with
X-rays as a precaution against recurrence. Luckily it is of the kind
which can be stopped by Radium. I have had a very bad time.

He died on July 23, 1916. He had lived not a long life but
a very fruitful one and a very happy one. Writing to Presi-

12 The sum of money attached to each prize amounts to about $40,000.

WILLIAM RAMSAY 177

dent Ira Remsen, of Johns Hopkins, a few months before his
death Ramsay concludes his letter with:

Well, I am tired, and must stop. I look back on my long friendship
with you!% as a very happy episode in a very happy life; for my life has
been a very happy one.

Ramsay was many-sided. He was an excellent example of
the very opposite of Punch’s dry-as-dust philosopher. Among
musicians'* and among artists’ he held his own, for he was an
accomplished amateur in both fields. As a linguist he prob-
ably has had few equals among scientists. And those of us
who, as late as 1912, heard him move a vote of thanks to Pro-
fessor Gabriel Bertrand, of the Sorbonne, after the latter’s
lecture to the members of the International Congress of Chem-
ists, will have formed a pretty good picture of his charm and
ability as a speaker. Of the many letters that have been pre-
served, perhaps none sums up so well the characteristics of
Ramsay as the following, written to his friend, Dr. Dobbie:

LE HAVRE,
Monday, the Something or other August, 1877.
My dear Dobbie,

Some fool of a Frenchman has stolen all the paper belonging to the
French Association, and has left only this half sheet with Le Havre at
the top. From the preceding sentence you will have already guessed that
the French Ass. is capering around Havre at present, that I form one of
the distinguished foreign members, and that all is going as merrily as a
marriage bell. Voici 5 jours that I find myself here. I went to Paris
with three spirits more wicked than myself, lawyers—a fearful compound
3 lawyers and a chemist—just like NCI, for all the world, liable to explode
at any moment. ... I have made the acquaintance with a whole lot of
chemists, Dutch and French, and have found an old Dutchman named
Gunning ravished to find someone who shares his ideas about matter.
chemical combination, etc. We excurted yesterday the whole day and
talked French and German alternately all the time. When we wanted to
be particularly distinct French was all the go. For energy and strong
denunciation German came of use. You can’t say “ Potz-teufel! ” in
French or “ Donnerwetter potztausend sacramento!” An old cove, also
a Dutchman, DeVrij, with bowly legs and a visage like this (sketch pro-
file) is also a very nice old boy. The nose is the chief feature of resem-

13 Dating back to the Tiibingen days.

14“T spent many evenings at their home, where William (Ramsay)
enlivened the company with songs, which in later years were greeted with
enthusiastic applause by his students at social evenings of the University
College Students’ Club. ... He had a very good voice, played his own
accompaniments, and was an expert whistler.’”—Oho Hehner, a friend.

15“ Another amusement of Ramsay’s was sketching in water colors,
an art in which he possessed no inconsiderable share of the talent which
belongs to his cousins, Sir Andrew Ramsay’s family.’-—Sir James Dobbie.

VOL. Ix—12

178 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

blance in the annexed representation. Wurtz and Schukenberger are both
Alsations and of course are much more gemiithlich than the echter Fran-
zose, but on the whole the fellows I have got to know are very pleasant.
Some of the younger lot and I kneipe every evening. Then we bathe
every day too in fine stormy water.!6 Eh bien, what is there to say of
more? Iam going straight back to Glasgow on Wednesday by the special
steamer to Glasgow. My money is about done, so I must bolt. ... By
the way I forgot to tell you that I had the cheek to read a communication
on picoline, in French, which was received with loud applause. There
Was some remarks made afterwards very favorable, tho’ I say it as
shouldn’t say it. Adoo. Write to Glasgow and tell me wie geht’s.
Yours very Sincerely,
W. RAMSAY.

16“ He (Ramsay) was a very strong and graceful swimmer and could
dive further than any amateur I have seen. When we were in Paris in
1876 the four of us used to go to one of the baths in the Seine every fore-
noon, and after the first time, when Ramsay was ready to dive, the bath-
man would pass round the word that the Englishman was going to dive,
and everyone in the establishment, including the washerwoman outside,
would crowd in and take up positions to watch him. He dived the whole
length of the bath and sometimes turned there under water and came
back a part of the length.’—H. B. Fyfe, a life-long friend.

A POSSIBLE NEW SOURCE OF FOOD SUPPLY 179

A POSSIBLE NEW SOURCE OF FOOD SUPPLY

By Professor P. W. CLAASSEN

CORNELL UNIVERSITY

UCH attention has been given during the last few years
M to the question of foods. We have learned to use in our
bakings and to like on our table various substitute flours that
hitherto were not considered worthy of trial. Many of the
flours have proved to be palatable and nourishing.

Among the many products which the Indians have taught
us to use may be mentioned such common and now indispen-
sable foods as corn and potatoes. Probably when man first
sampled potatoes he did not relish them, but gradually learned
to like them. Likewise the white man has learned to use corn
and both corn and potatoes are now considered indispensable
foods.

There are, however, many products which the Indians used
and relished that have received little or no attention from the
white man. The common ecat-tail (Typha) is one of these
products. Parker,' in speaking of the “ Iroquois Uses of Maize
and other Food Plants,” says:

The roots of the cat-tail were often used. Dried and pulverized the
roots made a sweet flour useful for bread and pudding. Bruised and boiled
fresh, syrupy gluten was obtained in which cornmeal pudding was mixed.
Others have spoken of the possibility of the cat-tail plant as a
source of food supply. J. D. Hooker, in his “ Descriptive and
Analytical Botany,” page 827, says: ‘The pollen of Typha
(cat-tail) is made into bread by the natives of Scind and New
Zealand.” And again the botanists, Engler and Prantl, state
that “the rhizome rich in starch may serve as food material.”

The vast areas of cat-tail have been little utilized. Here is
a plant with prolific growth, rich in starch and other products
of food value, growing in situations now regarded as waste
lands.

The cat-tail is a perennial plant with large underground
rootstalks or rhizomes. Several of these rhizomes originate
from a single plant. They spread in all directions and run
underground for distances of twelve to thirty inches or more,
then suddenly turn and come out and form other stalks. Thus

1 Museum Bulletin 144, N. Y. State Museum.

180 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A TYPICAL CAT-TAIL MARSH.

in any cat-tail patch three to four inches under the surface of
the ground one finds an irregular network of these rhizomes.
To these rhizomes are attached the roots and root-hairs which
gather the food material from the soil. The rhizomes, which
measure three fourths to one inch in diameter, are the storing
places for the reserve food that has been manufactured by the
green leaves. The center of the rhizome consists of a core of
more solid material, an almost solid mass of starch. This core
measures three eighths to one half inch in diameter. Sur-
rounding this core of starch one finds a layer of spongy tissue,
such as occurs around the roots of many of the swamp plants.
It serves as a protection or as an insulator to the central core
of the reserve food material.

During the growing season the cores of the rhizomes be-
come filled with grains of starch. With this bountiful supply
of reserve food material on hand, the cat-tail is able to send
forth its new leaves the following spring just as soon as the
frost is out of the ground. A remarkably rapid growth is thus
insured. However, in this process of food manufacturing and
storing, the cat-tail is not so different from many other plants.
All plants store up food material in some form or another. The
potato concentrates its food material in the tuber in the ground
preparatory to the following year’s crop. The sole purpose of
this large starch supply in the potato is to provide enough re-
serve material for the young plant till it is able to maintain
itself. Likewise the cat-tail provides for its “progeny.” It
is nature’s way of insuring the maintenance of its species.

Man has taken advantage of many of the stored products
of nature and come to depend upon them largely for his sus-

A POSSIBLE NEW SOURCE OF FOOD SUPPLY 181

tenance, but there is still much food going to waste in so far
as man’s own interests are concerned. The cat-tail produces
a surprisingly large amount of food material. The plant grows
in situations which are at present little or not at all utilized.
According to C. A. Davis,” there are in the United States, exclu-
sive of Alaska, 139,855 square miles of swamp land. Thou-
sands of acres of this land are cat-tail marshes. These marshes
annually produce thousands of tons of food material. Only
indirectly has man learned to reap some benefit from these cat-
tails, for annually scores and scores of muskrats are trapped in
themarshes. The sustenance of these muskrats consists largely
of the rhizomes of the cat-tail.

Knowing that the Indians had made use of the cat-tail as a
food, and knowing that such animals as muskrats thrive on this
food, it was thought worth while to investigate the value of the
cat-tail plant as a source of food supply. Should it prove to
be of value and should it be possible or practicable to obtain the
food and prepare it in some form, it might prove to be another
valuable asset in this or in some other country. With an ordi-
nary pickaxe a square yard of cat-tails were dug up in a mod-

Shih i

WA

A WALL OF CAT-TAIL.

2 Bulletin 16, S. Doc. 151, 60th Cong., 1st Session.

182 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

erately thick patch. The tops of the plants were cut off, the
rhizomes washed and taken to the laboratory. Here the entire
bundle of rhizomes was weighed. Thus the total weight of
rhizomes obtainable from a square yard was found. This
amounted to 6.7 pounds. Much of this weight, however, was
water. The rhizomes were put upon a radiator and left till
they were thoroughly dry. This required from five to eight

Two CAT-TAIL PLANTS SHOWING THE UNDERGROUND STEMS OR RHIZOMES.
Note the new offsets at the bases of the old plants.
TWO PIECES OF RHIZOME WITH PART OF THE OUTER COVERING REMOVED TO SHOW THE
RELATIVE SIZE OF THE CENTRAL CORE FROM WHICH THE FLOUR IS DERIVED.

days. The dry weight of the rhizomes was 2.23 pounds, or
one third of the original weight. Calculating from these fig-
ures we find that one acre of cat-tail would yield a total dry
weight of rhizomes of 10,792 pounds. The next part of the
problem was to determine what part, by weight, of the rhizome
consisted of the central core of starch. Various methods were
employed in attempting to separate the central core from the
surrounding layer of spongy tissue. It was found that while

A POSSIBLE NEW SOURCE OF FOOD SUPPLY 188

the rhizomes were still wet the spongy tissue peeled off quite
readily, in fact it could be stripped off very much in the manner
that one strips off the bark of a small tree. This left the cen-
tral core quite clean. If, however, the rhizomes were left till
partly dry the outer layer would not separate so easily and
much of the core was lost in attempting to separate the two.
But if the rhizomes were left till completely dry the outer layer
came off very readily and left the clean, hard central core.
Careful weighings showed that in the dried rhizome the central
core constituted 60 per cent. of the total weight of the rhizome.
Taking 60 per cent. of the above 10,792 pounds, we find that
one acre would yield 6,475 pounds of material composed of the
cores. These cores contain many fibers, and our next attempts
were made to separate these fibers from the rest of the mate-
rial. The cores were ground up and the grindings placed in
water, thus attempting to separate the starch from the fibers

7 nas
ele
SOONER

. <.
ay
S2 oe

CROSS SECTION OF A RHIZOME. Except for the fibers the cores are composed
of a solid mass of starch.
A FEW CELLS FROM THE CENTRAL CORE MUCH ENLARGED TO SHOW THE GRAINS OF STARCH.

by gravity. This method, however, did not prove satisfactory
since much of the starch went into solution and few of the fibers
came to the surface. A syrupy solution also forms which tends
to hold the grains of starch and the fibers together. Secondly,
the dried cores were ground up finely by passing them several
times through an ordinary meat grinder and then sifting
through a fine mesh sieve. Much of the fibrous material was
thus got rid of. The siftings proved to be a fine flour of a
white or slightly creamy-white color and not much different in
general appearance from wheat flour. By this crude method
of separating the fibrous material from the cores we found that
from 10 to 15 per cent. by weight of the cores proved to be
fibrous material, leaving a net weight of 5,500 pounds of the

184 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

siftings or flour available per acre. Of course, not all of the
fibrous material was got rid of by this method, but likewise part
of the flour was lost with the fibers, so that the above figures
probably represent a fair average estimate.

A sample of the flour thus obtained was sent to Washington
to the Food Administration office. This office turned the sam-
ple over to the Plant Chemical Laboratory, where an analysis
of the flour was made. This analysis shows the following
composition :

IMOISCURC HERI ae aioe hearer ives Selgin afer .3d: Per ‘Cent.
JAN) OY Ls. 6 Fi one so NORIO OCR TE CTE GREAT RT 2.84 Per Cent.
AG eee ewer aster eyes eh cet das fuera ceccnete 0.65 Per Cent.
1 RA eOL Ret Cute rh See NERO RRO SOC RET DanC 7.75 Per Cent.
Carbohydratese joie oon 81.41 Per Cent.

Mr. J. A. LeClerc, the chemist in charge, in his report on
the analysis says:

You will see from this that this material has approximately the same
amount of protein that is found in rice and corn flours. The ash content
is very high, however. In this respect it approximates the amount found
in potato flour and in cassava flour and in dasheen flour. The fat content
is somewhat lower than that found even in wheat flour. In view of our
experience on the use of flour substitutes in baking we see no reason why
cat-tail flour could not be used to the extent of 10 to 20 per cent. as part
substitute for wheat flour.

Two samples of the flour were also analyzed by the Food
Laboratory of the University of Kansas. Sample no. 1 con-
sisted of the flour just as the cores were ground up without
attempting to remove the fibers. Sample no. 2 had the fibers
removed similarly to the sample that was sent to Washington.
These two samples show the following composition:

No. 1, Per Cent. No. 2, Per Cent,
IWOUSEUNCeeaetcate tye cscs 246 atsvabe Goa ars OTe eee 8.78
INC SWY AG: &, iO "0-0 EDEL ane QO wsgstenede eters 2.48
IP POLIT ee cpsvayse kets cesta acer nels ee oe era GO dL eee eae
Hate(ethersextract) .......4..- a a ee Reo ie oc 4.91
Carbohydrates (different)....... SSiSillins stearate 79.09

It may be of interest to show in tabular form the analyses
of several flours in order to compare them to the cat-tail flour.
The figures in these tables for the flours other than cat-tail
have been taken from Bulletin 701, U. S. Department of Agri-
culture,Washington, D. C.

A POSSIBLE NEW SOURCE OF FOOD SUPPLY 185

CHEMICAL ANALYSIS OF WHEAT-FLOUR SUBSTITUTES AND OF CAT-TAIL FLOUR.

Kind of Flour Water, Ash, Fat, Protein, drates.
Per Cent. Per Cent. | Per Cent. Per Cent. per ,

SRM Pane tune = ae peak ci ss. . | 12:00 A2 1.00 12.50 73.83
BG lm CONIIN (sw). lnkuc,ccicis a ava aoe. 6.96 .82 2.82 7.88 80.83
RECORD OMSMEGI I a sycta mies fuaetes 2s 9.65 36 24 8.81 80.74
letanieine) (GlatiZCD)n > oiseette cleio cag eae eee 6.82 4.01 43 12.25 74.80
(CAISSON < ole bie eine tbeene 25 eee 8.21 1.60 29 1.44 86.45
WMasheenm(Meeled) is 4. eee cerns seve 7.48 4.12 A6 8.00 77.80
Cat-tail (Washington analysis)....... (feats, 2.84 65 talo 81.41
Cat-tail no. 1, Univ. of Kans. anal.... 6.77 PB IE BIA 5.71 83.81
Cat-tail no. 2, Univ. of Kans. anal.... 8.78 2.48 4.91 Tene 79.09

A comparison of the above analyses shows that the cat-tail
flour is not so different in composition from other flours and
could probably well be used.

The practicability of obtaining the flour from the field is a
question which deserves further attention and experimentation.
Likewise the question of cultivation would require careful in-
vestigation. The fact, however, remains that there are thou-
sands of acres of cat-tails containing considerably over two
tons of flour per acre which at present finds no use.

We have found that it is not so difficult to get the flour in
small quantities. Half an hour at digging and “peeling” has
yielded three or four cupfuls of flour. The digging is not so
different from digging potatoes and the peeling about equally
facile.

We have used this flour in several ways, first as part substi-
tute flour in baking, and secondly as a substitute for corn-
starch in puddings. Biscuits made with 33 per cent. and 50
per cent. cat-tail flour were found to be very palatable. Even
100 per cent. cat-tail flour made biscuits that were not so dif-
ferent from biscuits made from wheat flour. Puddings made
with cat-tail flour in them in place of corn starch proved to be
entirely satisfactory. The flavor produced by this flour is
pleasing and palatable.

Dr. ABRAHAM JAC

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

187

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

DR. ABRAHAM JACOBI

IN the death of Dr. Abraham Ja-
cobi the medical profession and New
York City lose “the good physi-
cian” and a fine personality link-
ing them with the middle of the last
century. He had practised medicine
in New York for sixty-five years
and had witnessed and assisted in

causing the great changes that have |

taken place during that period, both
in his profession and in the city.
Dr. Jacobi occupied the first chair
for the diseases of children in the
United States, having been ap-
pointed professor at the New York
Medical College in 1860, and main-
tained to the end of his long lfe

leadership in all matters concerned |

with the medical treatment and hy-
gienic care of children.

Abraham Jacobi was born eighty-| :
| had been connected as visiting phy-

nine years ago in a Westphalian
village, of Jewish parents, his father
having been a peddler and keeper
of a small shop. By his own efforts
and ability he made his way through
school and university, taking part
as a medical student in the revolu-
tionary activities of 1848. After
two years of imprisonment, he came
to the United States.
circumstances a subsequent call to
a chair in the University of Berlin
was a notable tribute.

When Dr. Jacobi first came to
New York, he opened an office in
which the fee was twenty-five cents,
but his medical training, such as at
that time could not be obtained in
this country, and his remarkable
personality soon gave him promi-
nence in the profession. Dr. Stephen
Smith, one of the editors of the
New York Journal of Medicine, who
celebrated his ninety-sixth birth-
day recently, invited him to write

|ice at the Mount Sinai

Under the.

'for the journal, and from that time

forward he became a constant con-
tributor to medical literature. His
first book was a treatise on the dis-
eases of women and children, pre-
pared in cooperation with Dr. Emil
Noeggeratt, and published in 1859.
This was followed by other volumes
and monographs, mainly concerned
with the diseases of children, but
also treating cancer, diphtheria and
intestinal diseases.

After the closure of the New
York Medical College, Dr. Jacobi
became a member of the faculty of
the New York Medical College, and
in 1870 became clinical professor of
the diseases of children in the Col-
lege of Physicians and Surgeons of
Columbia University, which chair he

_ocecupied until his retirement as pro-

fessor emeritus in 1902. Dr. Jacobi
sician with a number of public hos-
pitals in New York City, the fiftieth
anniversary of his continuous serv-
Hospital
having been celebrated in 1910.

Dr. Jacobi was always active in
medical organization, having been
president of the American Medical
Association, the Association of
American Physicians, the New York
Academy of Medicine and other so-
cieties. He -.took part throughout
his life in all movements for the
welfare of the community, more es-
pecially in those concerned with the
housing, food and care of infants
and children.

On the occasion of Dr. Jacobi’s
seventieth birthday a Festschrift
containing scientific contributions by
fifty-three colleagues was presented
to him at a largely attended dinner.
On his eightieth birthday the Medi-
eal Society of the State of New

TIINUOD VUZY JO TAALVLG GHL FO ONIITGANG

anagae ~

(nel aed

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

189

York held a reception in his honor, | gives a glimpse of the beautiful out-

and presented to him a bronze me-
dallion portrait. Preliminary ar-
rangements had already been made
for the celebration of his ninetieth
birthday, which would have occurred
on May 6 of next year.
In 1873, Dr. Jacobi married Dr.
Mary C. Putnam,a physician of dis-
tinction, active in promoting the
medical education of women, who
died in 1906.
At the dinner in honor of Dr. Ja-
cobi’s seventieth birthday, referred
to above, the following verses by the
late Dr. S. Weir Mitchell were read:
That kindly face, that gravely ten-
der look,

Through darkened hours how many
a mother knew!

And in that look won sweet reprieve
of hope,

Sure that all Earth could give was
there with you.

THE SEMI-CENTENNIAL OF
CORNELL UNIVERSITY

CORNELL UNIVERSITY was char-

/look from the Cornell Campus.

Each college and several depart-
ments held conferences of alumni
and faculty to discuss educational
problems. The opinion seemed gen-
eral among those who attended that
the conferences were distinctly suc-
cessful, and that, contrary perhaps
to the prevalent opinion when the
plan was first announced, the alumni
were sympathetic, encouraging, and
alert to the educational work of the
university. Aspecialreunion brought
back some sixty physicists to do
honor to Edward L. Nichols, ’75, the
retiring head of the department of

physics, who during the thirty-two

tered in 1865 and opened in 1868. _

The celebration of its completion of
fifty years was postponed on ac-
count of war conditions and took
place at the recent commencement
with some four thousand alumni in
attendance. The principal exercises
were held out of doors when ad-
dresses by President Schurman,
Governor Smith, Judge Hiscock, and
Justice Hughes were delivered in
the Schoellkopf Stadium. The speak-
ers spoke from a platform, built
large enough to hold a glee club, and
fitted with an effective sound am-
plifier that carried the voices per-
fectly.

Another occasion of interest was
the unveiling of the statue of Ezra
Cornell by his daughter, after which
President Schurman and Professor
Crane paid tribute to the character
and work of the founder of the uni-
versity. The statue has been placed
between Morrill and McGraw Hall.
The illustration here

|} ern

| the State College of

| university.
reproduced

years of his professorship has done
great service for education at Cor-
nell and research throughout the
country.

It is said that a record was estab-
lished by serving a course dinner to
four thousand alumni in the Drill
Hall, and a supper of the same mag-
nitude was served the following
evening. Miss Mary Louise Thatcher,
a graduate of the Home Economics
Department, who is not yet twenty-
six years of age, was responsible for
the arrangements, and five hundred
men and women students. volun-
teered to do the tasks of waiting on
the tables.

There were many fraternity and
class reunions and the usual athletic
events, including a display of air-
planes. One event usual at such
celebrations was lacking, for Cor-
nell has the distinction of not con-
ferring honorary degrees.

Cornell University, somewhat re-
moved from the Atlantic
occupies also educationally a
tion intermediate between the east-
private corporations the
state universities. The governor and

seaboard,

posi-
and

other state officers are trustees, and
Agriculture is
in cooperation with the

Women are admitted on
equal terms, and attention has been

conducted

190

paid to practical studies. Perhaps
it meets as nearly as any university
the conditions of Ezra Cornell’s oft-
quoted words: “I would found an
institution where any person can
find instruction in any study.”

THE AMERICAN FEDERATION
OF LABOR ON SCIENTIFIC
RESEARCH

AT the recent Atlantic City Con-
vention of the American Federation
of Labor a resolution was passed as
follows:

WHEREAS, scientific research and
the technical application of results
of research form a fundamental ba-
sis upon which the development of
our industries, manufacturing, agri-
culture, mining, and others must
rest; and

WHEREAS, the productivity of in-
dustry is greatly increased by the
technical application of the results
of scientific research in physics,
chemistry, biology and geology, in
engineering and agriculture, and in
the related sciences; and the health
and well-being not only of the work-
ers but of the whole population as
well, are dependent upon advances
in medicine and sanitation; so that
the value of scientific advancement
to the welfare of the nation is many
times greater than the cost of the
necessary research; and

WHEREAS, the increased produc-
tivity of industry resulting from
scientific research is a most potent

|

factor in the ever-increasing’ strug- |

gle of the workers to raise their
standards of living, and the impor-
tance of this factor must steadily
increase since there is a limit be-
yond which the average standard
of living of the whole povulation
can not progress by the usual meth-

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

portant and pressing problems of
administration and regulation now
faced by federal, state and local
governments, the wise solution of
which depends upon scientific and
technical research; and

WHEREAS, the war has brought
home to all the nations engaged in
it the overwhelming importance of
science and technology to national
welfare; whether in war or in peace,
and not only is private initiative
attempting to organize far-reaching
research in these fields on a national
scale, but in several countries gov-
ernmental participation and_ sup-
port of such undertakings are al-
ready active; therefore be it

Resolved, by the Amedican Fed-
eration of Labor in convention as-
sembled, that a broad program of
scientific and technical research is
of major importance to the national
welfare and should be fostered in
every way by the federal govern-
ment, and that the activities of the
government itself in such research
should be adequately and gener-
ously supported in order that the
work may be greatly strengthened
and extended; and the Secretary of
the Federation is instructed to
transmit copies of this resolution to
the President of the United States,
to the president pro tempore of the
Senate, and to the speaker of the
House of Rrepresentatives.

THE PROPOSED MEDICAL
FOUNDATION FOR NEW
ViORK CLE,

ANNOUNCEMENT has been made
by Dr. Royal S. Copeland, health
commissioner of New York City, of
an organization to be known as the
New York Association for the ad-
vancement of Medical Education

'and Medical Science.

ods of readjustment, which limit |

can only be raised by research and
the utilization of the results of re-
search in industry; and

WHEREAS, there are numerous im-

The association’s constitution and
by-laws have already been adopted
and an application has been filed at
the Secretary of State’s office in Al-
bany for a charter. Dr. Wendell C.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

Phillips, ear specialist and general
surgeon for Bellevue Hospital, is the
president, and Dr. Haven Emerson,
formerly health commissioner of
New York, is the secretary.

Dr. Phillips, who is the originator
of the project, planned before the
war for an institution that would at
least rival Vienna and Berlin. The
world conflict postponed the matter,
but as soon as the armistice was
signed the physician and those in-
terested with him revived the plan.
A meeting was held on April 10, at
which prominent medical men gave
their views, and a committee was
appointed to deal with the matter.

As stated in the constitution of
the association, there are four pri-
mary objects to be attained. There
are: First: To improve and amplify
the methods of graduate and under-
graduate teaching. Second: To per-
fect plans for utilizing the vast
clinical material of the city for
teaching purposes and to make use
of teaching talent now unemployed.
Third: To bring about a working
affiliation of the medical schools,
hospitals and laboratories, as well
as the public health facilities of the
city, to the end that the best inter-
ests of medical education may be
conserved. Fourth: To initiate the
establishment of a medical founda-
tion in New York City whereby
funds may be secured to meet the
financial requirements of all forms
of medical education and _ investi-
gation.

There will be two classes of mem-
bership in the organization, one a
general membership, including all
physicians in good standing, teach-
ers of auxiliary sciences, and inves-
tigators of problems relating to
medicine; the other, a corporate
membership of medical teachers and
medical men with hospital appoint-
ments or affiliations. The corporate
- membership is limited by the consti-
tution to not over 150.

The physicians who are responsi-

is

| ble for the plan issued a short state-

ment, which was given out at the
board of health offices, in which
they said:

For vears it has been evident that
medical education, both undergrad-
uate and graduate in New York has
not adequately represented the pos-
sibilities of this great city. One of
the reasons for this state of affairs
has been the lack of financial sup-
port for our medical institutions. A
more potent reason, however, arises
from the fact that individual insti-
tutions working along somewhat
narrow lines have accomplished sat-
isfactory general results. The larger
possibilities which could only come
from a more or less central organi-
zation have failed to materialize.

As a result, men seeking medical
education have been obliged to seek
medical centers in European coun-
tries where more individual and spe-
cial courses could be secured with
but little trouble.

It is a historical fact that after
every great war, the medical center
of the world is changed and the war
just over will be no exception to the
rule. In line with these ideas and
in order to give New York City this
opportunity to at least become one
of the leading teaching medical cen-
ters of the world, our organization
has been formed.

In addition to Dr. Phillips and Dr.
Emerson, the following compose the
officers of the association: Dr. George
D. Stewart, president of the New
York Academy of Medicine, first
vice-president; Dr. Glentworth But-
ler, chief medical consultant of the
Long Island College Hospital, second
vice-president; Dr. Arthur F. Chace,

stomach specialist of the Post-
Graduate hospital, treasurer. The
trustees are Colonel Charles H.

Peck, Dr. William Francis Camp-
bell, Dr. John E. Hartwell, Dr.
Frederick Tilney, Dr. Otto V. Huff-
man, Dr. Adrian Lambert, Dr. Sam-
uel A. Brown, Dr. James Alexander
Miller, and Dr. George W. Kosmak.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Lord Rayleigh, the great English

192

physicist, and of Emil Fischer, the |
distinguished chemist of the Uni- |
versity of Berlin.

Dr. GEORGE E. HALE, director of
the Mount Wilson Observatory and
foreign secretary of the National
Academy of Sciences, who has been
for the last ten years a correspond-
ent of the Paris Academy of Sci-
ences, has been elected a foreign as-

sociate, taking the place of Adolph)

von Baeyer, declared vacant by the
academy.
limited to twelve, and the distinc-
tion has been held by only two
Americans—Simon Newcomb and
Alexander Agassiz.

PROFESSOR ALBERT A. MICHELSON,

head of the department of physics

at the University of Chicago, has |
| ville.

been appointed to the rank of com-
mander, U.S.N.R.F. He served as |
lieutenant commander in the Bureau
of Ordnance of the Navy Depart-
ment at Washington during the

The foreign associates are |

war.

COLONEL J. G. ADAMI, F.R.S., pro-
fessor of pathology, McGill Univer-
sity, Montreal, has been elected vice-
chancellor of the University of Liv-
erpool, in succession to Sir Albert
Dale.

THE eighty-seventh annual meet-
ing of the British Association will
be held in Bournemouth from Sep-

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tember 9 to 13, under the presidency
of the Honorable Sir Charles Par-
sons, who will deliver an address
dealing with engineering and the
war. The following presidents of
sections have been appointed by the
council: A, Mathematical and Phys-
ical Science, Professor Andrew
Gray; B, Chemistry, Professor P.
Phillips Bedson; C, Geology, Dr. J.
W. Evans; D, Zoology, Dr. F. A.
Dixey; E, Geography, Professor L.
W. Lyde; F, Economic Science and
Statistics, Sir Hugh Bell, Bart.; G,
Engineering, Professor J. E. Peta-
vel; H, Anthropology, Professor
Arthur Keith; I, Physiology, Pro-
fessor D. Noel Paton; K, Botany,

Sir Daniel Morris; L, Educational

Science, Sir Napier Shaw, and M,
Agriculture, Professor W. Somer-
Evening discourses will be
delivered by Sir Arthur Evans on
“The palace of Minos and the pre-
historic civilization of Crete”; and
by Mr. Sidney G. Brown on “ The
gyroscopic compass.”

AN alumni memorial to honor Dr.
C. R. Van Hise, late president of the
University of Wisconsin, has been
proposed in the form of a Van Hise
Memorial Geological Building to be
erected on the campus to bring to-
gether under one roof the depart-
ments of geology and mining engi-
neering, as well as the state and
national geological surveys.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

SEPTEMBER, 1919

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY READ
FROM THE GEOLOGICAL RECORD:
THE EMERGENCE OF MAN’

By Professor JOHN C. MERRIAM
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

S now interpreted history means nothing if it does not
present connected series in which every part contributes
somewhat to the interpretation of all other parts or is in turn
interpreted by them. Features of contrast may serve as mark-
ers for stages of movement and degrees of change, but the
essential interest of the subject is embodied in the idea of con-
tinuity or unity.

The concept of evolution as we use it in science is only an-
other form of expression for continuity in historic series pre-
senting sequences of apparently different elements. It repre-
sents the idea of growth. It involves rate of development and
nature of the forces controlling it. It interprets present condi-
tions in terms of the past, and furnishes to some extent a basis
of calculation for prediction of the future.

In the preceding lectures of this series your attention has
been directed out over the stellar world, and back in time
through certain evident transitions by which its existing stages
have been reached. The earth which we inhabit has been
shown to you shaping into its present form, and the living
world upon it has been passed in review through numberless
evolutionary changes leading up to its present highly differen-
tiated, and relatively complicated phases. The mechanism of
evolution has also been set forth as we now see it. Astronomer,
geologist, paleontologist and biologist have all expressed the
idea of growth.

1 Delivered before the National Academy of Sciences in April, 1918, as
the sixth series of lectures on the William Ellery Hale Foundation.

VOL. V1I.—138.

194 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

While the passage from stellar to geologic evolution has con-
sisted mainly in narrowing of view to special processes, the in-
troduction of an organic or life sequence has involved a most
difficult transition, seeming superficially of a qualitative type,
and presenting one of the great problems barring our way to a
full interpretation of nature.

Considering the evident physico-chemical and biological
characters of man, resembling those represented in the general
scheme of animal evolution, and taking these characteristics
together with man’s relatively advanced stage of intelligence
and constructive ability, it has been natural to think of the
human organism as the next member of a graded series beyond
the stage seen in biological or paleontological history. This
might of course be done without assuming relationship between
man and nature. It is, however, logical to inquire whether
there is not actually full continuity between the biological world
and the distinctly human sphere. As humans, no problem of
greater fundamental significance faces us in contemplation of
the historical or origin sequence in nature.

At a time when our world has just emerged from a conflict
involving the making of history of unexampled significance, it
may seem that consideration of the beginnings of our story
might well wait upon better opportunity for such luxury as
speculation regarding an unchangeable past. This view we
might well hold were it not clear that future world adjust-
ments, brought immediately before us by the present crises,
involve many heretofore little-heeded factors, among which are
included those biological aspects of human life and social or-
ganization striking their roots down to the lowest strata of
history.

Every nation with a clear vision now realizes that with the
widely differing peoples of the earth brought in immediate
contact by modern rapid transportation, by lightning commu-
nication, and by the reaching out of interdependent industries,
international difficulties can be settled or prevented only
through understanding of the nature, environment and needs
of every nation and race. This comprehensive view of the
world situation will not be alone the interpretation of the dip-
lomat, of the international lawyer, or of the business man con-
cerned primarily with trade for profit. It will necessarily in-
clude perception of the essential similarities and differences of
race, understanding of racial and national psychology, of special
abilities of peoples for accomplishment in particular directions,
and of peculiar needs of races and nations. Together with these

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 195

factors, which have their basis largely in heredity, we must
know the true influence of environment, of culture and of
language.

The knowledge which we require is such as can be reached
only by the fullest attainable understanding of the true nature
of every phase of the human type in every aspect of its being.
As a part of the required information, it will be essential that
we have clearly outlined the background of our entire history,
setting before us the evidence as to what we are, by showing us
how we came to be.

APPROACHES TO EARLY HUMAN HISTORY

Approaches to early human history have been made by
many roads; one has been that of the investigator working
his way back from present to earlier time by way of docu-
mentary history, and finding a lower limit in the beginning
stage of written record set down by use of hieroglyphs or
alphabets. We have also the approach through work of the
philologist and the ethnologist suggesting relationships and
origins through similarities of language and custom. Advance
to still earlier stages of the human record are made by way of
archeology, basing its method in part upon physical superposi-
tion of strata in determination of culture sequence. Carrying
us still farther down is that aspect of paleontology connected
on the one hand with the study of cultures through archeology,
and on the other hand basing history upon succession of faunas
and floras, and using the sequence of strata worked out by the
carefully elaborated technique of the geologist. To these views
there must then be added the speculations of the biologist upon
relationships of the human family, which naturally follow a
broad application of the evolution theory.

There can be no field of science which does not, in addition
to its peculiar individuality, represent also the meeting place of
other sciences, as, for example, chemistry is indissolubly con-
nected with physics and is expressed in terms of mathematics.
There are, however, few cases in which the information re-
quired for construction of the complete story has remained for
a longer period so widely scattered and so sharply divided into
the various elements needed for understanding of the subject,
as have the materials used in constructing the beginnings of
human history. As in the development of the relationships
of many other sciences, starting from widely separated points,
the student of documentary history, the philologist, the arche-
ologist, biologist, geologist and paleontologist have all worked

196 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

out from their special regions until the widening boundaries
overlapping have given us the present field of early human
history.

Consideration of that phase of the problem concerning the
emergence of man or the beginning of human history is essen-
tially then an archeological and paleontological problem read
out of the geological record. The evidence as we know it un-
questionably carries us back into records representing geolog-
ical periods long antedating the present age in the earth’s
story. Although no sharp distinction exists between the meth-
eds of the archeologist and those of the geologist, it seems clear
that the interpretations of the geologist and paleontologist with
the cooperation of the biologist must be the dominant elements
in obtaining our understanding of the earliest stages of human
life.

It is the purpose of the two lectures given at this time to
deal with that portion of the historical series covered by the
emergence of man and the stages of his history before the dawn
of civilization. While the question is essentially comprised
within the realm of geologic and paleontologic research, it is
necessary to consider also such evidence as may be secured
from other sources indicating the place of the human type in
the natural world, with whatever data may be found to furnish
suggestions concerning the origin and ancestry of man. The
inquiry concerns specifically a particular portion of actual his-
tory, for which the explanation or cause must be furnished by
evidence secured on other lines of thought.

BIOLOGICAL POSITION OF THE HUMAN TYPE

A study of the beginnings of human history, considered
from the point of view of an investigator passing in review the
evolutionary process, involves the biological relationship of
man to other groups or organisms. Before presenting the evi-
dence of human history from the paleontologic and geologic side
it is desirable to set up as a background such information as we
have from other sources concerning the possible biological re-
lationships of the human family. These considerations are
taken up with a view to determining their value in interpreta-
tion of man’s place in nature, and the possibility of his growth
or evolution out of the natural world. They comprise:

1. The question of existing human differentiation. Do laws
of variation, such as are found in other groups of organisms,
obtain also among humans? In other words, is a biological
scheme of classification naturally expressed within the human
group?

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 197

2. The problem of geographical distribution of human
variations with special relation to the question of origin and
classification of such differing types.

3. The problems of comparative anatomy and physiology,
including consideration of the question whether man’s body is
structurally similar to that in the higher animals.

PHYSICAL VARIATION IN THE HUMAN GROUP, AND
CLASSIFICATION OF SUBGROUPS

Bringing into review the whole range of variation of the
human family in all of its aspects, the differences in structure
and in other characters, as color, seem to many biologists com-
parable to the grades of distinction separating species of
horses, wolves, bears, monkeys, and other mammals. There
is, to be sure, the unending discussion whether the various
kinds are to be distinguished as varieties, species or genera;
but the settlement of this question is of the same nature as the
determination whether the species of one author writing on
modern mammals are always comparable with those of another.
There may, however, be no difference of opinion regarding ex-
istence of these distinctions, or that they represent the natural
expression of variation or evolution in these groups of organism.

No biologist coming down from Mars would hesitate to
divide the human family into groups comparable to those of
other mammals. Though there might be a difference of opin-
ion among the Martians on the question whether certain divi-
sions of the human type should be designated as varieties,
species, genera or families, it is probable that the Martians
would construct similar classification schemes, their diver-
gence of opinion concerning mainly the question as to nomen-
clature of the divisions in their similar plans. So the biologists
and anthropologists of our own world to-day, without regard
to minor differences of opinion, classify the human group.
Each division with its peculiarities and its assumed relation-
ships, and each perhaps possessing among its peculiarities pos-
sibilities for advance of the world interest not open in the same
measure to any other group.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION

Along with other natural relations, the geographical dis-
tribution of man presents a most interesting resemblance to
the situation obtaining generally among the higher vertebrates.
We frequently find that a map showing distribution of the mem-
bers of a group of mammals or birds represents in fairly clear

198 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

outlines a classification of the subdivisions such as would be
made on the basis of morphology. The forms exhibiting the
closest resemblances are geographically nearest, but not in the
same place, and those that are most widely separated in char-
acters are generally far apart geographically. The whole
scheme of distribution when checked against geological history
generally shows the group gradually radiating from its place
of origin and differentiating more widely as the distribution
extends. As shown by W. D. Matthew it is not necessarily true
that the peripheral types are the most specialized, they may be
primitive forms pushed out from the point of origin, but in
general wide geographic separation seems to mean wide mor-
phologic difference. In the case of man we find this geographic
grouping of similar types, the geographic separation of more
widely differing groups, and the pattern of distribution corre-
sponding in general to the grouping of varieties or species of
the human type according to morphological characters.

In the distribution of human types a most striking sugges-
tion bearing upon the relation of distribution to variation is
presented in the physical variation among the inhabitants of
North and South America. Although there are between one
hundred and two hundred linguistic groups in this area, the
physical types throughout both continents are not widely dif-
ferent and are very close to those of Asia, the nearest land. A
student of modern mammals, equipped with experience in trac-
ing out the history of distribution of groups, would not hesitate
in the case of non-human mammals to state that factors of dis-
tribution and variation such as we see in the case of man in
America indicate that the organisms concerned have been on
this continent such a short time that there has been little op-
portunity for physical differentiation to take place; and that
the American forms are evidently derived from an Asiatic
source. It may be desirable to mention in anticipation, that the
evidence of geological history indicates that man now highly
differentiated in the Old World has been present there for a
long period, whereas in America, with relatively little differen-
tiated human types, the question as to antiquity extending
back as far as the geological period preceding the present is
still under vigorous discussion.

STRUCTURAL RESEMBLANCE OF MAN TO THE HIGHER ANIMALS

The physical characters of man generally resemble those of
the apes so clearly that discussion of this relationship inevitably
resolves itself into a search not for similarities but for dif-
ferences.

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 199

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160

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40

A consideration of features in the anatomy of man assumed
to be indicators of relationship requires that reference be
made to peculiarities in the development of certain parts of
the skeleton which have been held to represent characters of
mammals or of reptiles, and to be present in man because of

200 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

his descent from these lower types. It has been assumed that,
among others, such characters are seen in the presence of sep-
arate bones representing ribs attached to the neck vertebre,
and present between the pelvis and the vertebral column of
man. These elements correspond to normal functioning bones
of the reptile skeleton. They originate and develop to a certain
stage in man as in the reptiles, but later fuse with adjoining
bones.

It is possible that some of these structural features have no
relation to the question of ancestry of the human skeleton. On
the other hand, as in the case of the ribs lying between the ver-
tebral column and the pelvis, and in the growth of the first two
vertebre, there is every reason to believe that the mode of de-
velopment corresponding to that of the reptiles in these por-
tions of the body is not related to specific needs of the skeleton
of man considered either as completed or in process of growth;
but that it represents rather a mode of development initiated
in a pre-mammalian stage, and persisting in man by reason of
the fact that even at this stage in evolution it offers no dis-
tinctly unfavorable features. It should also be noted that the
mode of development of these elements seen in man is common
throughout the mammals, and is most strongly expressed in
those forms which most closely approximate the characters of
the reptiles.

The anatomical characters distinguishing us from the an-
thropoids are generally considered to be most sharply expressed
in form and dimensions of the brain and skull, and in form
and function of the posterior extremities. It is probably un-
necessary to proceed farther than to mention the difference be-
tween the brain capacity of less than 600 c.c. in a gorilla bulk-
ing larger than a man, and an average of about 1,500 c.c. in a
Caucasian male, or a minimum of about 950 ec.c. for a female
Veddah, one of the lower races. Difference in brain capacity
is accompanied by skull distinction of which the most readily
recognized character is seen in the relatively large size and
prominence of the jaws in the apes.

In some respects the difference between man and the apes
seems as clearly expressed in the limbs as in the brain, espe-
cially since the difference is not merely one of degree, but is in
the limbs a distinction of kind and of function. In most apes
the relatively long fore-limbs are the principal structures for
loccmotion, which is by swinging through the trees, and to some
extent the hands of these limbs serve the head, though the
thumb is not generally opposable. The hind limbs of the apes

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 201

are used for grasping and the feet with opposable first toe
serve as hands.

In man the relatively long posterior extremities are used
solely for walking. The anterior extremities with opposable
thumb of the hand serve the head, and as one among many

COMPARISON OF THE SKELETONS OF MAN AND THE GORILLA, presenting especially
marked differences in skull and proportions of anterior and posterior limbs. Skeleton
of gorilla to left; skeleton of man to right. (Adapted.)

other functions they may be used for climbing. The opposable
thumb is specialized to a high degree and freedom from use in
locomotion permits the hands a great development of skill in
many directions. In apes there are really four hands, but the
pair with opposable first digit is situated on the portion of the
body farthest from the head, so that neither pair is advantaged
to specialize after the manner of the hand of man.

202 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The distal or foot portion of the posterior extremity of both
ape and man represents in its fundamental plan the typical
extremity of all vertebrates above the fish. It has the same
elements arranged in the same order with relation to each

GIBBON. Illustrating extraordinary difference between posterior and anterior limbs.
(Adapted. )

other. It is characterized as in normal mammals and reptiles
by five digits or fingers in which the inner or first digit corre-
sponds to the thumb and is composed of a smaller number of
phalanges or finger bones than the other digits.

In the apes the first digit is, as in normal mammals and rep-
tiles, much shorter than the other, but is distinguished by ex-

ntocune®
Mesocunest

Nawrculare,

1 ee pS
HR rads

Caleaneus }

LEFT FOOT OF CHIMPANZEE. LEFT FOOT OF MAN.
(Adapted from Wiedersheim.) (Adapted from Wiedersheim.)

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 203

traordinary mobility including opposability to the other digits
as seen in the thumb of the human hand.

In the foot of man, with the same fundamental plan seen in
the apes, we find an extreme modification rarely duplicated in
vertebrates, in that the normally short first
digit, while retaining the normal number of
phalanges for mammals, has been greatly en-
larged and elongated until it equals or exceeds
the longest of the other digits. It has, more-
over, relatively very slight mobility and is not
in any sense opposable. The type of modifi-
cation is so extraordinary among the great
number of foot forms known that we must as-
sume for it an important relation to an extra-
ordinary use. This we find indicated in the
unusual position of the fore and aft axis of
the foot, running obliquely across the foot and
through the great toe, instead of through the
middle toe as in most forms, giving us a foot
with the toes turned out, the weight of the
body being borne very largely upon the end of
the inner toe. This extreme modification of
the human foot is clearly to be coupled with
the specialization of the whole limb for run- ..., 4. qowax Foor.
ning in a long-legged, two-footed form, stand- (Adapted from Munson.)
ing normally with everted toes.

According to the paleontologist who relates variation in
form to variation in use, these peculiar characters of human
feet have come to exist through peculiar use, persistently con-
tinued for a long period. It seems that we must set the human
type off as very unusually modified for the special function of
bipedal locomotion so necessary if the hands are to be set free
to serve the head.

Although in the view of many of the earlier writers the
human foot differs but little from that of the apes, a number
of investigators have inclined toward the view that the dif-
ferences seen here constitute one of the strongest evidences in-
dicating a considerable gap between man and anthropoids.
The separation has seemed sufficiently wide to indicate that the
initiation of changes leading toward the human type of ex-
tremity must have occurred at a very remote time, at least as
early as the incipient specialization of the ape group, tending to
produce its peculiar type of adaptation for aboreal life through
use of the anterior limbs for swinging or climbing with the hind
limbs used for grasping.

204 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

In his recent careful review of the subject, Dr. W. K.
Gregory takes another view, namely, that the human group
may be derived from an anthropoid type which had gone far
in the direction of arboreal specialization, and later left the
trees and passed through relatively rapid evolutionary stages,
producing a long-legged running type with greatly developed
big toe. According to Gregory the erect position of man has
been made possible by great elongation of arm, permitting
fairly erect position of the body in an anthropoid ancestor who
rested his weight in some part upon the fore limbs in walking,
as in the modern gorilla.

To most students of the problem of structural similarities
and differences distinguishing apes and men, the greatest di-
vergences noted are to be classed as differences in degree rather
than in kind. This seems in large measure true of skull and
brain. The difference in foot structure possibly presents the
widest separation and indicates distinction in habits of life
conditioned upon locomotion. Should the views expressed by
Gregory prove correct, man might conceivably be derived with
changes of relatively little significance from forms not unlike
the most man-like of modern apes. If other views offer the cor-
rect interpretations of structure and of possibilities of modi-
fication, the gap is wider and the modern apes will be assumed
to represent a type built especially for the trees, while man
will be considered as a type long practised in running, long
accustomed with free hand to serve a brain given wider op-
portunity for range of thought. Yet even with this widest gap
that we can open the apes are still so near us that with man
recognized as a biological type he must, when classified, take
his place in the line next to the chimpanzee and the orang.

CONCLUSIONS AS TO POSITION OF MAN IN NATURE

The conclusion which we obtain from a consideration of
the biological aspects of the human problem is that physical
man may not be separated from the zoological scheme. The
sum of evidence from human physical structures gives us an
organism dependent upon typical biological processes for its
origin, and constructed on the typical mammalian plan. On
the basis of general similarity we are obliged to refer the type to
that portion of the mammalian group including the monkeys and
apes. Such evidence as we secure from comparative anatomy,
interpreted through the study of classification and distribution,
suggests that the type of man is built up from a form which
was originally reptilian, and has passed through many mam-

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 205

malian stages before reaching its present level of development.
We find the human race showing grouped variations of indi-
viduals apparently separated from other variations much as
are a large percentage of the generally recognized species of
many groups of mammals. We find also that the varying in-
dividuals are geographically grouped in a manner paralleling
the distribution of mammalian types recognized as species and
genera.

From the fact that man is differentiated into clearly sep-
arated groups related geographically as are the species of
mammals, one might assume that he has been subject to the
laws of evolution obtaining in other groups of organisms, and
that through a long course of history he has gradually spread
himself over the earth, undergoing a process of differentiation
concurrent with the extension of his geographic range. In this
brief statement, it is not necessary to go farther into considera-
tion of the physiological organization of man than to state that,
excepting in minor details, the functioning of this organism is
similar to that of the higher mammals of the primate division.
The details of physical difference between man and the primates
are less than the difference between primates and other groups
of mammals assumed to be derived from more ancient forms also
ancestral to the primates.

GEOLOGICAL HISTORY OF THE ANTHROPOIDS TO WHICH MAN
SHOWS CLOSEST RESEMBLANCE

A most interesting chapter in paleontologic evolution, which
is necessarily a preliminary to discussion of early human his-
tory, is that covering the successive stages of development of
the anthropoids to which man shows closest resemblance. If
man is considered to be derived from apes, it is necessary to
know whether the assumed ancestor existed before man ap-
peared. It is also in many respects as essential to trace the
evolution of these hypothetical ancestors up to the branching
off of man, as it is to trace man back toward the type from
which he is presumed to be developed. Out of the record of
anthropoid history it is to be expected that we shall ultimately
obtain most important evidence bearing upon the question of
man’s relationship to the other mammals.

Unfortunately, the available remains of fossil apes are ex-
ceedingly fragmentary and include only a limited representa-
tion of skeletal parts. Important specimens have been secured
from a few localities in Europe, from northern Africa, and,
most significant of all, from the great series of Siwalik forma-

206 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tions of southern Asia, representing a large portion of the
later geological record. The occurrences of this group in the
Siwalik beds of northern India are of unusual importance, as
the formations are of considerable geographic extent, of extra-
ordinary thickness, of long geologic range, the relations of the
strata are fairly clear, and there is a splendid representation
of a long sequence of mammalian faunas associated with the
anthropoids. Study of the Siwalik deposits has been followed
through the work of the Geological Survey of India for many
years, and most interesting results have been secured, espe-
cially by Lydekker and Pilgrim. No remains of anthropoids
are certainly known from the western hemisphere.

The primate or man-monkey group was in existence, clearly
defined, considerably differentiated, and widely distributed in
Eocene time, five periods before the present day, or at the be-
ginning of the stage of dominance of the great mammal group.
The anthropoid or ape division of the primates was distinctly
represented in Africa in the second or Oligocene period of the
mammal age. By the middle of the third or Miocene period,
forms having in general the characteristics of the orang and
the gorilla are found in Asia, and a representative of the gib-
bons was present in Europe.

Although the known fossil remains of anthropoids are frag-
mentary, the available material is sufficient to show distinctly a
considerable range of forms in which there are present charac-
ters approaching those of the human type, as well as the diag-
nostic features of the gorilla and chimpanzee. Pilgrim basing
his views upon recent studies of the Siwalik collections of India

COMPARISON OF Sivapithecus AND Dryopithecus. Lower jaws, upper view, multi-
plied by one third. A, Sivapithecus indicus, provisional and partly hypothetical resto-
ration after Pilgrim; B, Dryopithecus fontani, after Branco. (Figures adapted from
W. K. Gregory.)

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 207

has taken the view that the genus Sivapithecus of the middle
Miocene is very close to a line leading to the earliest known hu-
man types and also represents the gibbon group.

Of the forms in the middle and late Miocene stage the group
of species gathered under the name of Dryopithecus has been
held by a considerable number of investigators to stand nearest
to man. In his admirable work on the evolution of the pri-
mates Dr. W. K. Gregory has recently considered Sivapithecus
as closely related to Dryopithecus and a representative of the
Simiine or orang-chimpanzee-
gorilla group, rather than of
the gibbons. The characters
of the dentition and form of
the jaw of Sivapithecus and
Dryopithecus approach closely
to those of the earliest types
referred to the human group.

Taking the sequence of an-
thropoid forms as we know it,
we find that in the earlier por-
tion of Cenozoic time only rela-
tively simple types are known
as Parapithecus and Proplio-
pithecus in which there are
foreshadowed characters of
both the typical anthropoid
and gibbon types. In middle
and late Miocene the gibbon

CBE gy

becomes distinctly separated
from the true apes, and there
appears a group of several
genera including characters of
orangs, chimpanzees, gorillas
and humans. As we proceed
through the Cenozoic these
groups become sharply defined,
until by the end of the Plio-

COMPARISON OF CHEEK TEETH FROM THE
LOWER JAW OF PRIMITIVE MEN AND ANTHRO-
POIDS, crown views about three quarters
natural size. A, gorilla; B, Sivapithecus
indicus, after Pilgrim; C, Pan sp., after
Miller; D, Pan vetus, adapted from A.
Smith Woodward; H, Homo heidelbergensis,
adapted from Schoetensack; F, Homo sa-
piens, molars of old female Australian
black; G, Homo sapiens, from a Strando-
looper Bushman. (Figures adapted from W.
K. Gregory.)

cene they are clearly separated as at the present time, and in
their development have passed through stages from some one of
which the line of evolution to man many well have originated.

A number of exceedingly fragmentary fossil specimens from
America doubtfully referred to the anthropoid group are gen-
erally presumed to represent members of the Suid or pig fam-
ily. Inasmuch as we are just beginning to obtain a knowledge

20

(o"s)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of the Pliocene, which is the critical period in consideration of
earliest human history, and since the American assemblages
in which the doubtful anthropoids appear are in many respects
close to faunas of Asia and Europe in which anthropoids occur,
it is not impossible that members of this group may yet be
recognized inthe latest Mioceneand Pliocene of North America.

The extraordinary and interesting views of Dr. Florentino

Chinji zone
MID. MIOCENE

Legend
~—O ai eeeas in Asia
area = v Africa
« Gurope

GEOLOGICAL SUCCESSION AND PROVISIONAL LINES OF DESCENT OF MAN AND APES.
(After W. K. Gregory.)

Ameghino concerning the possible origin of man by way of evo-
lutionary stages leading through the South American platyr-
rhine monkeys seem not to be founded upon good logic, as these
forms are fundamentally distinct in dentition and general
skeletal structure from the Hominide or human family and
from the whole old world group of anthropoids.

Of all the remaining unsolved problems of evolution one of
the most important seems to rest in the working out of the later
paleontologic history of the anthropoids, particular considera-
tion being given to possible relationship of these forms to the
earliest humans. As nearly as we can now determine, the
Asiatic region has seen a large part of the evolution of the

THE BEGINNINGS OF HUMAN HISTORY 209

apes, and contains also the oldest known remains of man. If
man has been derived from anthropoids, the chain of missing
links required to establish this biological relationship is pre-
sumably to be found there.

The 16,000-foot thickness of the Indian Siwalik series pre-
sents a most important volume of record in which anthropoid
history is written, and no conditions for preservation of remains
are more favorable than those of this region. It is not too much
to expect that the next ten years of concentrated, well-organized
effort in the Asiatic region will furnish as yet undreamed chap-
ters in history giving early tendencies of evolution toward hu-
man characters, and evidence on the structure, relationships,
habits and environment of earliest man. The undertaking will
require much energy and large support, but when other prob-
lems of immediate urgency have been satisfactorily settled, it is
to be hoped that this work may be carried through. It must be
done by more intensive collecting in the known areas, and by a
wide range of studies through other occurrences of the late geo-
logical formations found over large districts of the Asiatic region.
There seems no doubt that some of the most important sources
of material have as yet scarcely been examined. Concentrated
effort by cooperation of a number of research institutions, or
through considerable endowment by one institution operating
through a series of expeditions would unquestionably contribute
very largely to our knowledge of this most interesting phase of
the evolution problem.

(To be continued)

VOL. viI.—14.

210 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

SOME CHARACTERISTICS OF THE RAINFALL
OF THE UNITED STATES

By Professor ROBERT DeC. WARD
HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Annual and Monthly Variability of Rainfall—_The amount
of precipitation which occurs in a year is variable, because the
rain-producing conditions, such as the number, intensity and
paths of cyclones, and the general pressure distribution, vary
more or less from year to year. A close study of the daily
weather maps usually shows why a given station or district
had a wetter or a drier year than normal. It is important for
many persons, notably farmers and engineers, to be informed
concerning the probable limits of such variations. The follow-
ing table shows the ratios of the rainfalls of the wettest and
driest years to the mean annual rainfalls for selected stations
throughout the United States.

RATIO OF WETTEST AND DRIEST YEARS TO THE MEAN FALL

Mean Fall Average of Wettest Average of Driest

Inches Year, Per Cent. Year, Per Cent.
50-60 142 70
40-50 143 64
30-40 154 64
5-30 178 55

To state these relations verbally: an annual rainfall of
nearly 180 per cent. of the mean may be expected in districts
with mean annual rainfalls of 5-80 inches. In these same dis-
tricts the rainfall of the driest years averages only slightly
over one half of the mean. It will be observed that the depar-
tures from the mean average greater where the annual amounts
are smaller.2 Furthermore, there may be a succession of sev-
eral years with an excess or a deficiency. During 1869-1903,
considered by 5-year periods, a total of 119 stations in the

1 Alfred J. Henry, “ Rainfall of the United States, with Annual, Sea-
sonal and Other Charts,” Bulletin D, U. S. Weather Bureau, 4to, Wash-
ington, D. C., 1897, p. 41.

2See also A. R. Binnie, “On Mean or Average Annual Rainfall and
the Fluctuations to which it is Subject,” Proc. Inst. Civ. Eng., Vol. 199,
1891-92, Pt. III., London, 1892 (average limits for wettest and driest

years in North America are 141 per cent. and 68 per cent., as quoted by
von Hann, “ Lehrbuch der Meteorologie,” 3d ed., p. 332).

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 211

“arid region” showed an excess in average annual rainfall,
and 150 showed a deficiency.* It appears to be a general rule
that years with precipitation above the mean are less frequent
than those with precipitation below the mean. The plus de-
partures are therefore greater than the minus departures.*
Remarkable cases of great differences between the rainfalls of
consecutive years are on record. Thus, on Mt. Hamilton, Cal.,
90.1 inches of rain and melted snow were measured in 1884,
and only 18.4 inches in 1885.5 Many illustrations, although
few as striking as this one, may be found in the records of the
Weather Bureau.

The rainfall of any individual month may also differ greatly
from the normal of that month. Many illustrations of this
variability of the monthly means of rainfall might be given.
The Weather Bureau records supply abundant data for the
study of this subject. In a certain September, e. g., when three
cyclonic centers passed over the South Atlantic States, the aver-
age rainfall for the district was 9.47 inches, while in the same
month in another year, when no storm center crossed the re-
gion, the average rainfall was less than one fifth (1.84 inches)
as large. It is always instructive to investigate the weather
map conditions which give rise to unusually wet or dry months.
The prevailing winds and the pressure distribution during a
wet and during a dry winter month on the Pacific coast have
been charted by Henry.* The abnormally rainy month was
clearly due to the displacement, to the south of their usual
latitudes, of the tracks of the low pressure areas. The amounts
of rainfall along the coast north of San Diego were in most
places over twice the normal, and in the Colorado region, where
the monthly mean is less than 2 inches, this particular month
gave over 10 inches. Unusually heavy monthly rainfalls over
the plateau are almost always due to persisting cyclonic condi-
tions west of the Rocky Mountains. In the dry month, the
tropical high pressure system was abnormally far to the north,
and the rainfalls averaged about half the normal amount. The

3 William B. Stockman, “ Periodic Variation of Rainfall in the Arid
Region,” Bulletin N, U. S. Weather Bureau, 4to, Washington, D. C.,
1905, p. 6.

4 An earlier table showing the mean annual deviation of rainfall at
selected stations in the United States, as determined by Blanford’s method,
will be found in Gen. A. W. Greely’s “American Weather,” 8vo, New
York, 1888, p. 154.

5 See footnote, 1, p. 23.

6“ American Weather,” p. 148.

7See under footnote 1, Charts IV., VI., VIII., X., pp. 23-24. Also
“ Atlas of Meteorology,” Text, p. 35, Pl. 24.

212 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

prevailing pressures and winds in a wet and a dry March in the
Mississippi Valley have also similarly been considered by
Henry,’ and McAdie has charted the typical pressure distribu-
tion and flow of winds during a wet and a dry winter month
in California.s The former had low pressure over the north-
western coast, with prevailing southerly (7. e., rainy) winds,
while the latter had high pressure over the northern Plateau,
with prevailing northerly (7. e., dry) winds.

The fluctuations of the monthly rainfalls at New York dur-
ing the period 1871-1900 have been investigated by Wachen-
heim.’ Three times in ten years a month occurs with less than
25 per cent. of its mean, usually in September and October.
About twice as often the rainfall of a month is over 200 per
cent. of the mean, mostly in summer and autumn. In 70 per
cent. of all months the amount of rainfall is less than 50 per
cent. above or below the normal. The annual means vary be-
tween 80 and 130 per cent. of the normal. The mean annual
variability is only 9 per cent. At San Francisco it is 25
per cent.

Consecutive Days with and without Precipitation.—The
maximum number of consecutive days that have been recorded
as passing with, and without, rain or snow, is a matter of con-
siderable general interest. These data do not, of course, indi-
cate that such rainy or rainless periods occur annually, but they
represent the maximum duration of these conditions within
the years covered by the observations.t° Over most of the
country, the number of consecutive rainy days has been be-
tween 10 and 20, these conditions characterizing by far the
larger part of the districts east of the Rocky Mountains except
the southern Great Plains (Texas). On the northwestern
coast (western Oregon), where the rainfall is heavy and the
cyclonic activity is marked, more than 30 days in succession
(80-40) have been rainy, while over a considerable area cen-
tering around the Great Lakes the number has been 20 to 380.
The frequency of cyclonic rainfall in this latter section, and not
the annual rainfall, clearly controls the conditions. The dis-

8 Alexander G. McAdie, “ The Rainfall of California,” Univ. of Cal.
Publs. in Geogr., Vol. I., No. 4, February, 1914, Figs. 1-2, pp. 181-182.

9F, L. Wachenheim, “Die Hydrometeore des gemissigten Nord-
amerika,” Met. Zeitschr., Vol. 22, 1905, pp. 193-211.

10 Mark W. Harrington, “ Rainfall and Snow of the United States,”
Bulletin C, U. S. Weather Bureau, Washington, D. C., 1894, Atlas, Sheet
XXII., Charts 9,10; Text, pp. 28-29. (These charts were based on about
twenty years of observations, and are the latest that are available. They

are, therefore, not up to date, but are doubtless correct in general terms,
and would not be materially altered by the addition of newer data.)

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 213

tricts of heavier annual precipitation north of the Gulf of
Mexico have had fewer consecutive days with precipitation
than the Lakes. Adjoining the district of the maximum num-
ber, on the northwestern coast, a considerable area, including
part of northern California, eastern Oregon, most of Washing-
ton and Idaho, has had 20 to 30. The smallest number of con-
secutive days with rain or snow (less than 10) has occurred in
southern California, over much of the Southern Plateau prov-
ince, and over most of central and western Texas.

From two weeks to a month (15-30 days) have elapsed
without precipitation over most of the Eastern Provinces, and
from one month to two months (30-60 days) over most of the
Plains, the Northern Plateau and the North Pacific provinces.
The duration of rainless periods increases rapidly from all sides
towards the arid districts of the southwestern interior, where
over five months (150 days) have passed without rain or snow.
Clearly, then, the duration of rainless periods is least where
the rainfall is heavier, the distribution through the year is
more uniform, and the cyclonic activity is greater

Droughts.—Long periods without rain are generally classed
as droughts. The term connotes a long spell of dry, but not
necessarily altogether rainless, weather, resulting in damage to
crops. A clear-cut and comprehensive definition of a drought
is, however, difficult to frame, for the reason that the effects
depend so largely upon other factors than the deficiency of rain-
fall. Thus, the accompanying temperatures; amount of wind
movement; character and condition of the soil; evaporation;
cloudiness ; stage of the crop, and other varying controls, enter
into the problem. If a drought is arbitrarily expressed in
terms of a deficiency in annual, or seasonal, or weekly rainfall
of a certain percentage, it may appear that in two districts
which have the same deficiency, the effects are different because
the other controlling factors are not the same. Droughts of
greater or less intensity may occur anywhere in the United
States, but are more likely to be serious where the annual rain-
fall is small, and where cyclonic controls of precipitation are
weak. Weather-map conditions during droughts as a whole
show that the immediate meteorological controls are weakened
cyclonic activity, or somewhat unusual cyclonic paths, or both.
Special studies have been made of various severe droughts in
the United States. An economic aspect of droughts to which

11See, e. g.. A. W. Greely, loc. cit., pp. 246-250; Alfred J. Henry,

“Climatology of the United States,” Bulletin Q, U. S. Weather Bureau,
4to, Washington, D. C., 1906, pp. 51-56; “ Rainfall of the United States,”

214 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

special attention has recently been directed is that of their rela-
tion to the occurrence of forest fires. ‘“‘A prerequisite of a
forest fire is a drought.”

Additional Rainfall Data: Hourly Frequency of Rainfall.—
A study of the distribution, intensity and frequency of rainfall
brings out many interesting human relations, but the investi-
gation involves much time and has so far received compara-
tively little attention in the United States.12 The most com-
plete studies of the details of rainfall in this country are those
for Baltimore and for Chicago. The economic importance of
rainfall makes it highly desirable that many more such detailed
studies should be undertaken. For example, if the hourly fre-
quency of rainfall in the different months be known, it may be
possible to plan outdoor work for the hours when there is the
least likelihood of rain. Kincer has shown that over the Cen-
tral Plains the greatest concentration of night rains occurs in
the harvesting and threshing season, daytime rains being then
comparatively infrequent.** The fact that the summer showers

Bulletin D, U. S. Weather Bureau, 4to, Washington, D. C., 1897, p.18. A
map of the eastern United States showing the frequency of dry spells in
the months of April to September during twenty years was published in
the National Weather and Crop Bulletin for May 4, 1915. The greatest
frequency was in the Plains province; the least in the southern Appa-
lachians.

12. A. Beals, “ Forecasts of Weather Favorable to an Increase of
Forest Fires,” Proc. Second Pan Amer. Sci. Congr., Dec. 27, 1915, to Jan.
8, 1916, Vol. 2, Section 2: Astronomy, Meteorology, and Seismology, pp.
257-270, Washington, D. C., 1917.

13 For a discussion of the rainfall data which are necessary in a full
description of any climate, see J. von Hann: “ Lehrbuch der Meteorologie,”
8d ed., Leipzig, 1915, pp. 324-361. Also, “ Handbuch der Klimatologie,”
8d ed., Vol. 1, 8vo, Stuttgart, 1908, pp. 60-67.

14 Oliver L. Fassig, “‘ The Climate and Weather of Baltimore,” Mary-
land Weather Service, Vol. II., Large 8vo, Baltimore, Md., 1907, pp. 159-
237; Henry J. Cox and John H. Armington: “The Weather and Climate
of Chicago,” Large 8vo, Chicago, IIll., 1914, pp. 151-236. An earlier volume,
still of importance in rainfall studies in the United States, is C. A. Schott,
“Tables and Results of the Precipitation in Rain and Snow in the United
States; and at Some Stations in Adjacent Parts of North America and in
Central and South America,” Smithson. Contrib., No. 222, 4to, Washing-
ton, D. C., 1872; 2d ed., ibid., No. 353, 1881. See also F. L. Wachenheim,
“Die Hydrometeore des gemidssigten Nordamerika,” Met. Zeitschr., Vol.
22, 1905, pp. 193-211. (Discussion of data for 1871-1900, including rain
intensities for different districts.)

15 Joseph B. Kincer, “ Daytime and Nighttime Precipitation and their
Economic Significance,’ Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 44, 1916, pp. 628-633.
(Hourly amounts and frequency are shown by diagrams. Three charts
give the average precipitation for the United States in inches during the
day, 8 A.M. to 8 P.M., and night, 8 P.M. to 8 A.M., for April-September,

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 215

are chiefly nocturnal means that evaporation is less than would
be the case under sunshine. Daytime rains are dominant in
the southeast and along the immediate Gulf coast. Over por-
tions of the southeastern states only about 25 per cent. of the
summer rainfall (April-September) falls at night, while on
the Central Plains from 60 to 65 per cent., or more, falls during
that time. At Columbus, O., 42 per cent. of the precipitation
of the growing season (April-September) is recorded at night.*®
At New Orleans, La., in summer, the percentages of day rains
as compared with those falling during the night range from 75
to 85.17 Most of the summer rains are thunderstorm rains.
At Galveston, Tex., convectional summer rains occur most fre-
quently at night, and mostly in the latter part of the night.'®

At Baltimore, the winter and spring months are charac-
terized by a rather uniform distribution of precipitation
throughout the day and night, in consequence of the uniformity
of the cyclonic control, while in summer, a maximum occurs
about 5 P.M., under the influence of thunderstorms.’® At
Chicago, also, the times of greatest hourly rainfall are related
to the times of thunderstorm occurrence.?® The hourly fre-
quency of precipitation is greatest in the colder months.”*

At Washington and New York the largest amount of rain
falls between 2 and 4 P.M., and the smallest between midnight
and2 A.M. The rain frequency is greatest from 4 to 10 A.M.”?

The mean hourly intensity of rainfall at New York, as given
by von Hann, shows a maximum between 3 and 6 P.M. and a
minimum between 3 and 6 A.M.?°

Heavy Rainfalls in Short Periods—Mean or average rain-
falls do not often occur. An excess or a deficiency is much
1895-1914, and also the percentage of the average precipitation for the
same months that occurs at night.)

16 Howard H. Martin, “ Hourly Frequency of Precipitation in Central

Ohio, and its Relation to Agricultural Pursuits,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 46,
1918.

17E. D. Coberly, “ The Hourly Frequency of Precipitation at New
Orleans, La.,” ibid., Vol. 42, 1914, pp. 537-538.

is W. P. Stewart, “ Midsummer Showers at Galveston, Tex.,” ibid.,
Vol. 41, 1913, pp. 1225-1226.

19 Loc. cit., footnote 14.

20 Loc. cit., footnote 14.

21 See also George W. Mindling, “ Hourly Duration of Precipitation at
Philadelphia,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 46, 1918, pp. 517-520.

22“ Tables of Average Hourly Precipitation at Washington, D. C.
(1874-1891) and at New York (1870-1891),” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 20, 1892,
p. 79. Also, Met. Zeitschr., Vol. 9, 1892, p. 480.

23 Lehrbuch der Meteorologie, 3d ed., p. 345. See also, A. W. Greely,
loc. cit., pp. 155-156.

216 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

more probable than the normal. Hence there is need of know-
ing something about the maximum amount of precipitation
which has occurred, and which is therefore likely to occur
again, or may even be exceeded. The maximum amount of
water which dams, sewers and supply-pipes may at some time
or other have to take care of is of vital concern to engineers.
Farmers, too, are interested in this matter, because of the wash-
ing and flooding character of very heavy rainfalls.

Excessive precipitation may result either from short and
heavy, or from lighter but longer continued rainfalls.** Rains
of the former type do the most damage. These occur charac-
teristically over the western mountain and plateau districts,
and are therefore seldom recorded. The torrential downpour
(“cloud-burst”) on the distant, uninhabited mountain slope;
the sudden rise of a stream in its narrow canyon; the rush of
the flood downward with irresistible force—these are familiar
phenomena to many who have sought their livelihood in that
rugged country. In the eastern United States, excessive rains
of this general type occur chiefly in summer; are associated
with thunderstorms or with West Indian hurricanes, and are
found chiefly along the southern Atlantic and Gulf coasts.
Rains of lighter intensity and of longer duration, of the second
type mentioned above, occur in connection with general storms
of unusual development, and are therefore found in the sections
most frequently crossed by such storms, in the eastern and
northeastern portion of the country, and on the northern Pa-
cific coast. As pointed out by General Greely, the conditions
which give rise to such excessive rainfalls are not likely to last
long. These heavy downpours are therefore usually over
within a day or so.”°

Where the line between damaging and favorable rainfalls
shall be drawn depends upon a large number of factors, such
as topography, soil, condition of crop, etc. Complete data con-
cerning excessive rainfalls for the year, month, day and shorter
periods, are regularly published in the Annual Reports of the
Chief of the Weather Bureau and in the Monthly Weather Re-
view. Numerous other tables of heavy precipitation, and sev-
eral discussions of these data, have been published in recent
years.”®

24A. J. Henry, “Rainfall of the United States,” Bulletin D, U. S.
Weather Bureau, 1897, pp. 52-54.

25 A. W. Greely, loc. cit., p. 148.

26 See, e. g., A. W. Greely, loc. cit., pp. 144-150 (details of excessive

rainfalls up to date of publication) ; Mark W. Harrington, loc. cit., Text,
pp. 27-28, 59-80; Atlas, Sheet XXII., Map 8 (discussion of heaviest rain-

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 217

In a general description of climate, the actual “record”
rainfalls are of no special concern. The maximum changes as
the length of the period of observation lengthens. ‘‘ Records”
are thus constantly being “broken.” The absolute maximum
hitherto noted is, therefore, a rather accidental matter at best,
and it is hardly worth while, in a general account, to remember
single “records” which are, at any moment, likely to change.
For the present purpose, broad generalizations, easily remem-
bered, are sufficient.

As a convenient rough-and-ready classification the follow-
ing rainfalls may be termed excessive: 10 ins., or more, in a
month; 2.50 ins., or more, in 24 consecutive hours; 1 in., or
more, in an hour. It must, however, be noted that these
amounts are often reached and exceeded, and are in no way to
be regarded as unusual in many sections of the country. They
are especially likely to occur along the southern Atlantic and
Gulf coasts in the warmer months, and on the Pacific coast in
winter. An examination of the available data regarding the
heaviest rainfalls in the United States leads to the following
simple general statement, which covers the ground fairly satis-
factorily and will need no essential modification as the length
of the period of observation increases. An average of 1 in. a
day, for 30 days, giving 30 ins. in a month, is not often ex-
ceeded, although there are a good many cases of still heavier
monthly rainfalls, and one case of over 70 ins. (Helen Mine,
Cal., January, 1909). A fall averaging 1 in. an hour, for 24
hours, covers the heaviest daily rainfalls thus far recorded, the
absolute maximum being 22.22 ins., at Altapass, Mitchell Co.,
N.C., July 15, 1916. It is impossible to give any rate of rainfall
covering, in a similar simple way, the amount of precipitation
in spasmodic, torrential downpours which may be over in half
an hour, or in even less time. In a “record” cloud-burst
(Campo, Cal., August 12, 1891) 11.50 ins. fell in 80 minutes.
This was at the rate of a little over 8.50 ins. an hour, continued
_ for 1 hour and 20 minutes. In some of these “cloud bursts”
the rate has actually been as high as 16-18 ins. an hour, but
falls, including heaviest rainfalls at selected representative stations for
year, month, 72, 48 and 24 hours, with tables); A. J. Henry, loc. cit., pp.
52-58; “ Summaries of Climatological Data by Sections,” Bulletin W, U. S.
Weather Bureau, 1912, and later reprints of various sections. A recent
discussion and tabulation of data, mostly for the period 1896-1914, will be
found in Adolph F. Meyer, “ The Elements of Hydrology,” 8vo, New York,
John Wiley and Sons, 1917, pp. 64-187. (Includes data for typical exces-

sive rain-storms; illustrated by numerous curves and charts.) See also
C. A. Schott, loc. cit., footnote 14.

21

io 4]

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

continued for very short periods. In view of the “ patchiness”’
of the records of heaviest rainfalls, it hardly seems worth while
to chart them for the country as a whole, although Harrington
prepared such a chart in 1891.27 From this chart it appears
that, not taking account of the mostly unrecorded local cloud-
bursts of the West, daily rainfalls approximating and even ex-
ceeding 10 ins., have occurred over a relatively narrow strip
along the southern Atlantic and Gulf coasts, and were asso-
ciated with the passage of West Indian hurricanes. To the
north and west the maximum daily rainfalls as a whole decrease
in amount, increasing again on the northern Pacific coast, but
without equalling those of the southeastern sections.

Secular Variation in Rainfall: Instrumental Records.—Pop-
ular belief in a “change” of climate goes back to the early
decades of the settlement of the United States, and frequent
mention of the subject occurs in the literature. In the ’70’s
and early ’80’s a widespread interest developed in the question
because of the impression, which rapidly gained ground, that
the building of railroads, the construction of telegraph lines
and the ploughing of the soil over the western Plains were
gradually bringing about a progressive increase in the rainfall
over those sections of the country. Popular interest in the
matter naturally led to a critical examination of the then avail-
able rainfall records, and several studies were, at that time,
made along this line.2* No definite evidence of any progressive
secular variation in rainfall was found, in these, or in other
early investigations of a similar sort.?°

It is upon the evidence furnished by accurate instrumental '
records, and not upon tradition, or human memory, or uncer-
tain evidence of other kinds, that reliable conclusions in this
matter must be based. The period covered by rain-gauge rec-

27 Loc. cit., footnote 10.

28 See, e.g., C. A. Schott, loc. cit.; H. A. Hazen, “ Variation of Rain-
fall West of the Mississippi River,” U. S. Signal Service Notes, No. VII.,
8vo, Washington, D. C., 1883, p. 8; also “ Droughts in Kansas and Texas
and Secular Variation in Rainfall,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 15, April, 1887,
p. 119; Mark W. Harrington, loc. cit., Text, pp. 19-20; Atlas, Sheet
XXII., Map 4; J. D. Whitney, “ Brief Discussion of the Question whether
Changes of Climate can be brought about by the Agency of Man, and on
Secular Climatic Changes in General, with Special Reference to the Arid
Region of the United States,” The United States, Suppl. I., Boston, 1894,
Appendix B, pp. 290-317.

29 See, e.g., “Supposed Recent Changes in Climate” (by W. Upton
and others), Amer. Met. Journ., Vol. 7, June, 1890, pp. 79-81. (The
records at New Bedford, Mass., from 1813, and at Providence, R. I., from
1831, show no progressive change in rainfall, but there are indications of

a periodicity of about twenty years).

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 219

ords in the United States is a comparatively short one. Few
observations go back of 1850, and most of them date from later
than 1870. There have thus far been few noteworthy studies
of these records from the viewpoint of their relation to climatic
“changes.” The more numerous discussions of limited scope
are mostly based on insufficient data. Abundant material for
investigations of this sort is now available.*°

In the Temperate Zones most of the rain and snow comes,
directly or indirectly, in association with general cyclonic
storms. As the paths, numbers and intensities of these storms
vary more or less from year to year, it is inevitable that the
precipitation of any year, or of any month, may differ consid-
erably from the general average for that period. Evenasingle
heavy thundershower, or a well-developed general rainstorm
may, for example, raise the total rainfall for a month 2 or 3 ins.
above the normal. Such annual and monthly fluctuations of
rainfall are well-known. They may result in giving a single
year or month, or a series of them, wetter or drier than the
average. The question whether there is any tendency towards
a progressively decreasing or increasing rainfall anywhere in
the United States, and whether there is any evidence of a
periodic variation or oscillation in rainfall has in recent years
been somewhat fully discussed by Professor A. J. Henry, and
by Professor Eduard Briickner.

Henry plotted the “progressive averages of precipitation ”
for certain stations in southeastern New England, in the upper
Ohio Valley (both for the years 1834-1896), and in the middle
Mississippi Valley (1858-1896) .** A rough periodicity of about
nine years appears in the Ohio Valley curve. The curve for
the middle Mississippi Valley shows little indication of period-
icity. The New England curve shows a noticeable increase in
rainfall, apparently a local phenomenon, from about 1845 on,
with a climax in 1888-1889 (a drought period in 1880-1882
being excepted). It is apparent that the three curves are not
in agreement as regards their periods of maximum and mini-
mum. A later study of the departures from the normal of the
annual rainfalls for all districts of the United States in the
period 1887-1911 (25 years) “lends no color to the theory of a
cycle in precipitation.”*? During the 25-year period under dis-

30 See, e. g., “ Summaries of Climatological Data by Sections,” U. S.
Weather Bureau. (These Summaries contain the monthly and annual
amounts of rainfall for each year throughout the period covered by the
observations).

31 Alfred J. Henry, Bulletin D, pp. 18-24, Pl. II.

82 A. J. Henry, “Secular Variation of Precipitation in the United
States,” Bull. Amer. Geog. Soc., Vol. 46, March, 1914, pp. 192-201.

220 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cussion, the tendency seems to have been towards years of defi-
cient precipitation, although years of abundant rainfall were
interspersed. Curves for selected stations in New England,
the interior, the western Gulf, and North Carolina (1879-1911)
show no ‘‘approach to uniformity of distribution in time or
space.” For the period and the districts under discussion, there
were about equal numbers of dry and of wet years. Conditions
favorable for unusually heavy rains over extended areas are
apparently exceptional. Rainfalls close to or slightly below
normal are rather to be expected.

Briickner has shown that over the world as a whole warmer
and drier periods alternate with periods which are cooler and
moister in an oscillatory cycle of about 35 years from maxi-
mum to maximum.**

In the case of the United States, curves are given for sta-
tions in the upper Ohio Valley, the central portion of the Missis-
sippi Valley and for New England. The rainfall for each year
is taken as the average of the 10 years of which it is the center,
e. g., for the year 1835, the average of the years 1831-40 is
taken. In all parts of the world which are represented in the
curves, except New England,*! there was a maximum of rain-
fall about 1845-50; a minimum about 1860-70; another maxi-
mum in the early ’80’s, followed by a decrease until the end of
the last century. From the minimum of 1836 to the minimum
of 1871 there were 35 years, and between the maximum of 1848
to that of 1882 there were 34 years. At present, there is a cool
and moist period, the middle of which is to be looked for about
1920. These oscillations have been traced back over 700 years
in Europe, and, in Briickner’s opinion, there is no doubt that
they will continue. The size and value of crops; movements
of population, and other economic consequences have been
shown to depend upon these cycles. Thus, the maximum of
rainfall about 1880 was followed by the ‘‘boom” on the High
Plains, and the collapse of the same “ boom ” occurred when the

33 Edward Brickner, “ Klimaschwankungen seit 1700, nebst Beobach-
tungen tiber die Klimaschwankungen der Diluvialzeit,” Vienna, 1890, pp.
324; “Zur Frage der 35-jahrigen Klimaschwankungen,” Pet. Mitt., Vol.
48, 1902, pp. 173-178; “ Klimaschwankungen und Vélkerwanderungen im
XIX Jahrhundert,” Internat. Wochenschr. f. Wissenschaft, Kunst und
Technik, 1910, March 5, pp. 15 (Berlin) ; ‘‘ The Settlement of the United
States as controlled by Climate and Climatic Oscillations,’ Memorial
Volume of the Transcontinental Excursion of 1912 of the Amer. Geog.
Soc. of New York, Large 8vo, New York, 1915, pp. 125-139.

34In the case of New England, the recent maxima came in 1869 and
1889, the conditions being different from those inland because of marine
control.

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 221

succeeding dry period came on. Obviously, oscillations of rain-
fall will have their most far-reaching effects in regions over
which the normal precipitation is barely enough for the ordi-
nary needs. Here a fluctuation on one side or the other of
the mean is of critical importance. Briickner has shown that
in the most continental climates the difference between the
maximum and the minimum rainfalls may amount to 25 per
cent., or even 50 per cent. or more. The oscillations in the level
of Great Salt Lake show no permanent change. The waters of
the lake rise and fall with a periodicity which agrees in general
with the Briickner 35-year cycle. After the close of the dry
period following the middle of the last century, the lake rose
more than 12 feet up to about 1880, its maximum coming dur-
ing a wet period. Then it fell again during the next dry period,
and rose during the present wet cycle.

Secular Variations in Rainfall: Non-instrumental Evidence.
—Climatologists who take a broad view of their subject are
interested in any facts which may throw light on the question
of secular variations in rainfall. They agree, however, in the
conviction that non-instrumental evidence is to be regarded as
in a wholly different category from that of actual rain-gauge
records in that the former can not possibly be subjected to the
same rigid analysis and scrutiny as is the case with the latter.

Within the last few years, Professors A. E. Douglass and
Ellsworth Huntington have made a study of the “rings” of
trees in Arizona and in California, it being assumed that the
thickness of the annual layers of tree-growth gives an approxi-
mate measure of the annual amount of precipitation. Douglass
has measured the rings of yellow pines on the northern Arizona
plateau, and finds a correlation between tree growth and cer-
tain meteorological cycles.** By means of an empirical form-
ula, a test was made covering a period of over 40 years for
which actual rainfall records are available, and it was found
that the rings gave a measure of the rainfall with an average
accuracy of over 70 per cent.** Indications of periods of 11.4,

85 A. E. Douglass, “ Weather Cycles in the Growth of Big Trees,” Mo.
Wea. Rev., Vol. 37, 1909, pp. 225-237; “ A Method of Estimating Rainfall
by the Growth of Trees,” Bull. Amer. Geog. Soc., Vol. 46, May, 1914, pp.
321-335; “ Pine Trees as Recorders of Variations in Rainfall,” Astron. and
Astrophys. Soc. Amer.; Bull. Internat. Insti. Agri., abstract in Quart.
Journ. Roy. Met. Soc., Vol. 39, July, 1918, pp. 244-245. F. E. Clements
and A. E. Douglass: “Climatic Cycles,” Yearbook Carnegie Institution,
Washington, D. C., 1918, p. 295. (Discusses coincidence of drought in the
Southwest with years of maximum sunspots, and mentions further tree-
ring examinations to be made with this in mind). See also footnote 37,

later.
86 In the case of the older trees, certain corrections were applied.

222 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

21 and 33.8 years, as well as of still longer fluctuations, were
found. The last crest of the 33-34 year period, about 1900,
can be correlated with the Briickner period above referred to.

The results obtained by Douglass have been included by
Huntington in a very considerable investigation of the various
kinds of evidence of climatic “changes” during the past 3,000
years in the arid southwest.. This investigation involved a
study of the rings of the “Big Trees” of California; and of
prehistoric ruins; archeological remains; strand lines, dunes
and alluvial terraces in southern Arizona and New Mexico.’
A comparison of the curves showing the rapidity of growth of
the “Big Trees” with curves previously plotted, illustrating
changes of climate in Central and Western Asia, leads Hunt-
ington to the conclusion that there is a correspondence between
them back as far as 1200 B.c., the agreement being especially
pronounced during the period 300-1000 A.D. There are, how-
ever, also cases of a lack of correspondence between the curves.
The archeological and physiographic evidence seems to Hunt-
ington to indicate three periods during which a much larger
population was living in the southwest than seems to be possi-
ble at present, owing to the existing deficiency of water supply.
These three population eras were about 1200 B.c., and in the
seventh and thirteenth centuries A.D., and correspond with
three long wet periods suggested by the studies of the tree
rings made by Douglass and Huntington.

The Climatologist’s Attitude regarding Non-instrumental
Evidence of Climatic Changes.—Climatologists as a group do
not feel competent to weigh such facts as those adduced by
Huntington and others regarding climatic oscillations long be-
fore the days of instrumental records. They realize that the
proper understanding and critical analysis of botanical, arche-
ological and physiographic evidence requires a degree of tech-
nical knowledge which is usually not a part of their own sci-
entific equipment. Therefore it must be left to the experts to

37 Ellsworth Huntington, “ The Fluctuating Climate of North Amer-
ica,” Geogr. Journ., Vol. 40, September-October, 1912, pp. 264-280, 392-411
(abridged and reprinted in Smithson. Inst. Ann. Report for 1912, Wash-
ington, D. C., 1918, pp. 257-268) ; “ The Shifting of the Climatic Zones as
Illustrated in Mexico,” Bull. Am. Geogr. Soc., 1918, Vol. 45, 1-12; Geogr.
Journ., Vol. 41, June, 1913; “Secret of the Big Trees, Yosemite, Sequoia
and General Grant National Parks,” Pub. U. S. Dept. of the Interior, 1918,
24 pp., 14 figs.; “‘ The Secret of the Big Trees,” Harper’s Mag., July, 1912.
See especially “ The Climatic Factor as Illustrated in Arid America,” by
Ellsworth Huntington, with contributions by Charles Schuchert, Andrew

E. Douglass and Charles J. Kullmer. Publ. of the Carnegie Inst. of Wash-
ington, No. 192, 4to, Washington, D. C., pp. iii and 341.

THE RAINFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 223

weigh this evidence and to determine its value. In connection
with this, it may be stated that these experts are by no means
unanimous in their views. It has, e. g., been pointed out that
the growth of tree rings may be affected by many conditions
other than the annual rainfall. The distribution of precipita-
tion through the year exercises a more critical control than the
annual amount, while the age of the tree; normal cycles in the
tree’s growth; insect and other pests, often themselves coming
periodically ; overcrowding; the loss of shelter, and other fac-
tors must be taken into account. Furthermore, the determina-
tion of the proper “correction factor” in plotting the curves
may not be as simple a matter as it seems. The fact that the
“Big Trees” have continued to thrive for 3,000 years has been
taken to indicate a remarkable uniformity of climatic condi-
tions, rather than a series of oscillations. Again, there is oppo-
sition among geologists to the view that variations in erosion
and in lake levels, due to variations in rainfall, furnish the
proper explanation of the conditions which have been observed
in the dunes, strand lines and alluvial terraces. In a region of
active mountain growth, like the southwest, elevation of the
land may explain the facts whose interpretation has been
sought in climatic change. Lastly, the archeological evidence
is by no means regarded as conclusive by all the experts. Thus,
J. W. Fewkes and others believe that long-continued prehistoric
irrigation, leading to increasing salinity of the soil, was perhaps
more potent in causing human migrations than human enemies
or increasing aridity.*®* Migration in search of firewood, and
invasions of enemy tribes, as well as a reduction in the fertility
of the soil, may help to explain these prehistoric changes of
population.

In the face of such conflicting testimony on the part of the
experts, the conservative climatologist may well remain open-
minded on this whole question.

38 J. W. Fewkes, 28th Am. Rept. Bur. Amer. Ethn., 1906-07 (1912).
There is abundant literature on the archeology of the southwest. See,
e. g., the following recent publications: E. L. Hewett, J. Henderson and
W. W. Robbins, “ The Physiography of the Rio Grande Valley, New Mex-
ico, in Relation to Pueblo Culture,” Bulletin 54, Smithsonian Inst., Bur.
Amer. Ethn., 8vo, Washington, D. C., 1913, pp. 76 (pp. 41-70 on climate
and the evidence of climatic changes. A progressive desiccation of the
region since the beginning of the pueblo and cliff-dwelling period is thought
to be indicated, but the change in population may possibly be ascribed to
other causes). Harold S. Colton: “ The Geography of Certain Ruins near
the San Francisco Mountains, Arizona,” Bull. Geogr. Soc. Phila., Vol. 16,
April, 1918, pp. 1-24. (Discusses the ruins as affording evidence of cli-

matic oscillations. “The question can not be finally settled until much
more work has been done in the pueblo region ’’).

bo
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THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM IN THE WAR

BEING SOME REFLECTIONS UPON THE RELATION OF
AN ORGANISM TO ITS ENVIRONMENT. II

By Professor F. H. PIKE
THE DEPARTMENT OF PHYSIOLOGY OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

MAN IN His RELATION TO HIS ENVIRONMENT. MAN’S REAC-
TION TO SOCIAL AND POLITICAL CONVENTIONS

HESE considerations must be urged as a justification for
the attempt of a physiologist, representative, loyal though
confessedly unorthodox in many particulars, of a science that
has concerned itself far more with internal organization than
with the effects of, or reaction to conditions in the environment,
to go back along the road of the naturalist which he traveled
as a student, to set forth in brief the general features of man’s
reaction to war and war conditions from the point of view of
the organization of the nervous system. For it is through
the nervous system that the reactions which I wish to describe
have arisen. In order to do this, we may first look a little
more closely at the manner of organization of the nervous sys-
tem and some of the changes it has undergone in the course of
organic evolution.

The possibility of affecting the organism through its nerv-
ous system has been mentioned. The property of irritability
or excitability is highly developed in nervous tissue. And its
sensitiveness, aS was previously stated, is further increased by
the development of highly specialized sense organs at the pe-
riphery. The eye and ear are familiar examples of such sense
organs. A sense organ has been defined as a mechanism for
decreasing the threshold of a stimulus, 7. e., a mechanism for
making the organism more sensitive to a given form of energy
in the environment than it would otherwise be. A very intense
light or an extremely loud sound would be necessary to stimu-
late a nerve trunk directly, but through the mechanism of the
eye or the ear, almost any measurable intensity of light or a
very slight sound may set up a nerve impulse which, on reach-
ing the central system, is interpreted as sight or hearing. The
nervous system, through its peripheral sense organs, is more
sensitive to some agents in the environment than the chemical

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 225

mechanisms of the body. And the greater the number of sense
organs or the higher their degree of development, the more sen-
sitive does the organism become. Some animals have more
highly developed sense organs of a particular kind than man,
as for example, dogs, which have a more acute sense of smell.
Other forms probably have sense organs for the perception of
certain agents in the environment which man is unable to ap-
preciate without the aid of laboratory instruments. But the
fact remains that man is sensitive to many manifestations of
energy in the external world.

Mere sensitiveness to agents in the external environment
constitutes but one side of the picture. The reaction of the
organism to the agent in the environment is still to follow.
And given the same set of external conditions, animals of dif-
ferent species may react in different ways, or different indi-
viduals of the same species may exhibit considerable variation.
In general the lower forms of vertebrates exhibit the greatest
degree of uniformity of reaction. And often the first time a
young animal reacts, its response is similar in every way to
that of an adult animal which has given this particular re-
sponse many times. Whitman calls such responses instinctive
responses and we may refer to his graphic description of the
action of a young puppy when it first takes food as an illus-
tration. He attributes their peculiar manner of execution to
the (internal) organization of the animal; and going a step
farther, we may recall Magendie’s statement that instinctive
responses are dependent upon the organization of the nervous
system. A little further up in the animal scale, the element of
a choice between two responses may enter into the problem,
and we have the origin of the possibility of intelligence. Whit-
man’s description” of the reactions of three different species of
pigeons, the wild passenger pigeon, the little ring-neck and the
common dove-cote pigeon, on finding the eggs gone from the
nest shows what a narrow boundary separates instinct from
the beginnings of intelligence. The outstanding feature of the
deportment of the lower organism is the narrow limits of varia-
tion in any given reaction under a given set of conditions.

But narrow limits of variation in a response are not con-
fined to lower vertebrates. New-born mammals usually exe-
cute the first few respiratory movements in essentially the same
way, using essentially the same motor nerves and muscles as
adults. The first swallowing movements are also biologically
adequate, resulting in the entrance of food into the stomach.

1See Columbia University Quarterly, 1918, XX., pp. 150-152.

2 Loc. cit., pp. 3384-335.

VOL. vi1.—15,

226 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The mechanism for each of these movements is laid down in the
sense organs, the afferent nerves, the central nervous system,
the efferent or motor nerves and the effectors—the muscles
and glands to which they go.

There are two features of this type of movements that are
worthy of remark. The first is their high degree of efficiency.
In the higher organisms the movements of respiration go on
for hour after hour, year after year, always keeping oxygen
in the blood and removing carbon dioxide from it as long as
life lasts. Few mistakes are made, partly for the reason that
the machinery is se highly organized and efficient that mistakes
do not often occur, and partly for the reason that when mis-
takes are made, they are sometimes fatal. The young necturus
or the young fish soon leaves the confines of home and shifts for
itself. Since its reactions are essentially the same as those of
an older fish or an older mud puppy, it catches its food and
seeks shelter in the way of all its tribe. And if the young fish
does make a mistake, there are plenty more from the same home
or other similar homes to make up for the ones that fall into
error. Learning, while possible in many of these forms, does
not fundamentally change their general behavior. Reactions
of this type possess the merit of that form of efficiency which
always gets things done in the same unchanging way, and
which results from a high degree of organization.

Such efficient and unchanging types of reactions, however,
are not without disadvantages. When we compare the move-
ments of respiration and swallowing with the movements of
the hand, certain deficiencies of the former type may be brought
out. The child can not use its hands in early life with as great
precision as it can swallow or breathe. Long periods of in-
struction and some years of growth are required before it can
acquire facility in writing or bricklaying or in using a type-
writer or playing a piano. Probably the time never comes
when it can do any of these things with as few mistakes as it
makes in breathing or swallowing. From this point of view,
these reactions never become as efficient as the reactions of
breathing or swallowing. And, whereas all that live, breathe
and swallow, probably no one individual can learn to write and
lay bricks or use the typewriter or play the piano with equal
facility. But while these reactions must be learned, and never
become as efficient as breathing or swallowing, they offer an
avenue of escape from the monotony of the life of the fish and
the mud puppy, or the mere occupations of breathing and swal-
lowing. The nervous mechanisms for the control of the move-
ments of the hand are not as highly organized as the mech-

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 227

anism for the control of swallowing and respiration, and arise
later in the course of organic evolution. A profound student
and philosopher of the nervous system, Hughlings Jackson,
called attention to this fact, and remarked that, if all parts of
the nervous system were as highly organized as the mechanism
for the control of respiration, there would be little hope of the
acquisition of new attainments. This statement is worthy of
some thought on the part of those who have insisted in recent
years that the hope of man lay in a higher degree of organiza-
tion and efficiency. Nature did not stop with the production of
highly efficient nervous systems, but went on to other higher
types. And, disconcerting as the discovery may be to the apos-
tles of a high degree of organization, there is scarcely any fact
in nature better established than the fact that the evolution of
the higher forms has led to the production of a nervous system
some of whose mechanisms are not as highly organized as are
those of lower animals, but which permit of new attainments
by the method of “muddling through” to proficiency if pro-
ficiency is ever attained. Man’s nervous system permits of
muddling through to proficiency in more directions and in more
reactions than that of any other animal. And since it is the
common observation of many that not all men can muddle
through to equal proficiency in all directions, but that one man
can do some things better than he can others, we have the
existence of those variations which constitute individuality.
Following a second line of evidence—that of the course of evo-
lution of the nervous system— we come again to the same con-
clusion at which we arrived after the survey of the chemical
mechanism of coordination—namely, Bergson’s statement that
life tends toward individuality.

Man manifests individuality in his mental processes quite
as much as he does in motor reactions. Often, in fact, his
motor reactions follow only as the result of his mental proc-
esses. Probably it is more through his individuality in thought
rather than of mere action that he has come into conflict,
whether for good or evil, with his fellows.

Various means have been adopted in the past in the attempt
to limit the exercise of man’s individuality through the setting
up of conventions of various kinds. Conventions have often
been set up to preserve the better things of life and to prevent
a falling back to a lower standard. The motive has often been
of the highest kind. Other conventions have been set up from
motives of self interest to guard the interests and privileges of
a small group against the assaults of the multitude. The ulti-
mate effect of conventions of this sort has often been illustrated

28 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in the course of human history. The most typical and far-
reaching form, so far as its effects on the general intellectual
life of the community is concerned, has been the particular sort
of convention set up in a theocracy such as that of ancient
Egypt or Babylon. The story is best given in the words of a
historian.°

In substance, too, the evolution of the two civilizations is strikingly
alike. Smaller communities of varied racial origin are slowly welded
together under conquering chiefs, whose power is supported by a religious
system, also slowly elaborated, in which the divine and human are so
closely intertwined that ultimately in each case the ruler and the leading
deity are practically identified. In each case a lower and upper kingdom
are finally amalgamated round a central city, in the one case Memphis,
in the other Babylon, some way removed from the river’s mouth. In each
case, the priestly order, in close alliance with the throne, devotes itself, in
opulence and leisure, to the elaboration of the theological system by a
study of the heavens. In each case these observations give valuable mate-
rial and stimulus to later science, and specially in two spheres of their
activity results are achieved of the highest lasting service to mankind.
To their beginnings in measurement and calculation we owe most of our
common units of time and space, and to their invention of writing prob-
ably the foundation of our own. It is these written records which have
revealed them to us, and formed to them also one of the strongest links
between successive generations. In each case, too, we note in the earliest
periods an extraordinary freshness and fineness in their artistic work
which is similarly marred later on in both by the extravagances of an
imperialistic spirit and the rigidity of convention.

As physiologist, I would be inclined to characterize this kind
of convention as an attempt to reduce the action of the neen-
cephalon—the newer part of the brain by which man has at-
tained his individuality—to the level of the relatively unvary-
ing action of the paleencephalon which governs the responses
of the fish and the mud puppy and presides over respiration
and swallowing, by mere fiat of man. But not all men in the
world came under the dominance of Egypt or Babylon, and the
Egyptian and Babylonian empires did not last forever. Other
men in other parts of the world were unbound by convention of
this sort and man’s progress continued for a time in more
favorable surroundings.

Greece was the next place in which the light of man’s intel-
lect flamed up and we read in such a work as Professor Bury’s
“History of the Freedom of Thought’”—a work worthy of
being read by every student of science—that reason was free in
Greece and Rome. Yet convention did not wholly pass them
by. And again in Greece the origin of the convention ¢an be
traced to the desire of a small group to protect their own inter-
ests or to conserve their own source of revenue.

3 Marvin, “ The Living Past,” pp. 32-33.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 229

The priestcraft of the earliest times met with difficulties in
gaining the ascendancy and in maintaining it when it was once
obtained. Perhaps the clearest picture of the nature of these
difficulties and of the attempt to overcome them by building up
a system of convention for mostly sordid motives is to be found
in the history of Greece. Homer, as A. W. Benn‘ remarks,
treated the gods in a humorous, joking sort of a way which no
organized priestcraft would have permitted. But at that time
no organized priestcraft existed, and a certain sceptical atti-
tude did no particular harm. But, as soon as a priestcraft
began to develop, the need for funds arose. No priestly hier-
archy could get money from the populace so long as it had back
of it only the sort of gods Homer described. And since tra-
ducers of the gods interfered with the general scheme of financ-
ing the priestcraft, such traducers had to be dealt with. Since
the opportunity for casting aspersions on the gods ended with
the life of the irreverent individual, it seemed a simple solution
of the problem to kill the irreverent individual. This was at-
tempted in the case of Anaxagoras, who held unorthodox views
concerning the nature of the sun and moon.® It seems prob-
able that Anaxagoras escaped death for blasphemy, and the
system never worked out as well at Athens as it did in other
countries in later years. But it was soon found that the death
of one individual did not wholly solve the problem, and it be-
came necessary to make the attack on it in a systematic way.
Legal sanction for the execution of heretics and blasphemers
was obtained, and the power of the priestcraft increased. Every-
thing seemed to be going well.

As time went by, however, some began to suspect that the
method of the priestcraft was not, after all, the best method of
approaching the solution of the problem. To some, it seemed
best to eliminate gods of questionable character and get along
with those of known worth. Scourging the money-changers
from the temple is one concrete instance of the application of
this method applied to more mundane affairs. This latter
method of approach did not, however, meet with universal
favor, especially in official quarters, and it was only after the
lapse of generations that the Greek gods and others of their ilk
were eliminated. The two methods persist to-day, and usually
the weight of official opinion has been thrown in on the side of
the first method. In general, mankind has been divided into
two great groups, one of which has been engaged in “putting

4“ Early Greek Philosophy,” p. 7, New York.
5 Benn, loc. cit., p. 75.

230 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

things over” and the other composed of those who have been
told that it is impolite, or even impolitic, to make a fuss.

The two groups have sometimes, but not always, been di-
vided on the basis of age. A quotation from the work of a
student of Greek drama is in point here.* Sheppard, in speak-
ing of the age of Euripides, remarks concerning affairs at
Athens:

Superstition still prevailed. Therefore the Enlightenment was salu-
tary, and was necessarily disruptive. It was also inevitable. When the
fathers think the Age of Reason is achieved, the sons may be trusted, if
they are of good stock, to see that it is still far off. The revolution in
thought, which Aristophanes deplored, was the legitimate offspring of the
Periclean age, though, like most children, it scandalised its parent. From
the time when Pericles became supreme, Athens was the center of Greece.
Her citizens travelled, and saw the customs of many nations. In the
assembly, and the law-courts they needed the arts of rhetoric, even before
teachers came from Sicily to teach the argument. All men who had ideas
found listeners and ready talkers in Athenian gymnasia, and the seeds of
opinion ripened after the sowers had perhaps been sent about their busi-
ness. Everything, divine and human, had to stand the test of criticism.
Much the same idea is expressed by James Russell Lowell in his

“Ode for the Fourth of July, 1876”:

Poets, as their heads grow gray,
Look from too far behind the eyes,
Too long experienced to be wise
In guileless youth’s diviner way.

The blindness to the ways of youth is still with us. Free in
thought though we may boast ourselves to be, there are yet few
among the elders who have remained sufficiently free from con-
vention to regard “guileless youth’s diviner way” in its true
light. For it, too, is a result of evolution, and upon its con-
tinuance our progress depends.

The problem of the autocratic ruler has not been very dif-
ferent from that of the priestcraft, and the method of attempted
solution has been very muchthesame. There grew up in “that
Divinity that doth hedge a king” an elaborate system of con-
vention which tended to limit the expression of the individ-
uality on the part of the subjects of the kingdom. The most
elaborate survival of such a form of convention is the taboo of
the South Sea Islands, since it could scarcely survive in any
society in which the elaborate claims of the ruler were sub-
jected to any sort of critical inquiry. Conventions of this sort
flourish best among peoples whose general mental processes are
not characterized by any high degree of individuality. But
facts and theories of this nature fall in the province of the

6 Sheppard, “ Greek Tragedy,” p. 124.

5

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 231

social anthropologist, and his opinion is entitled to a hearing.
Both physiologist and anthropologist have little hesitancy in
regarding the taboo as superstition. Going on from this point,
the social anthropologist recognizes that without the aid of su-
perstition to maintain them, some of our common political and
social institutions would have been modified or have collapsed
long ago. The institutions of government, of private property,
of marriage and even of respect for human life were originally
founded upon superstition, and maintained by it long after
their foundation.“ Superstition has not been without its bene-
ficial results, since some of these institutions have been worthy
of preservation. But one may hope that eventually all of these
institutions will be placed on a rational basis and worked out in
accordance with the principles of human reason.

THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE FREEDOM OF THOUGHT

The conventions set up by the ancient priestcraft and the
kings of the ancient monarchies tended to limit the freedom of
thought. Other conventions have tended toward the same end,
and man has, sooner or later, rebelled against them. Bloodshed
has been the price paid for breaking convention and securing
freedom of thought. Much discussion has centered about the
question, and discussion is likely to continue for some time to
come. As a biologist, I would consider that the question of
freedom of thought is bound up with man’s nervous system.
The historian finds a justification for the freedom of thought,
not “on the conception of natural right,” but “on the assump-
tion that the progress of the race, its intellectual and moral de-
velopment is a reality and is valuable.”s Biology comes to the
aid of this assumption; and, from the point of view of organic
evolution, it is not so much an assumption as a fact. Mental
processes, as Burdon-Sanderson stated,® are a part of the spe-
cific energies of the organism, and should, on that ground, be
included in the subject-matter of physiology. Referring back
to the point of view of the physiologist, we may suppose that,
ordinarily, mental processes go on for the good of the individ-
ual. A man’s thoughts become a part of the general activity of
his nervous system, and can not be unreasonably limited with-
out interfering with his internal development, which has arisen,
and, let us hope, will continue, as the result of processes of
organic evolution. As Herbert Spencer expresses it, “a man’s
thoughts are as children born unto him, which he may not will-

7 Frazer, J. G., “ Psyche’s Task,” London, 1913.

8 Bury, loc. cit., pp. 240-241.
9 Loc. cit., p. 469.

232 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ingly let die.” But mental processes, like other processes in the
body, may become perverted, and we may have mental disease
as a result. Such diseased persons must be treated as diseased
persons and not as persons possessed of a devil. But if it be
true, as I think is undoubtedly the case, that “‘the progress of
the race, its intellectual and moral development” is a product
of, or has arisen in the course of, organic evolution, the whole
object and end of evolution has not been the development of
ferocity. This conclusion is not wholly new. Huxley, years
ago, remarked that man, having attained to his present state,
would be glad to see the ape and the tiger die, but they refused
to suit his convenience. But, new or old, the conclusion needs
more emphasis than it has received in the last five years or
more. Good animals are necessary, but good men are still more
necessary if the race is to distinguish itself from other animals
by properties other than mere anatomy. The Greeks recog-
nized this; for Sophocles, in his chorus of Antigone, made this
statement:

Of all strong things none is more wonderfully strong than Man. He
can cross the wintry sea, and year by year compels with his plough the
unwearied strength of Earth, the oldest of the immortal gods. He seizes
for his prey the aery birds and teeming fishes, and with his wit has tamed
the mountain-ranging beasts, the longmaned horses and the tireless bull.
Language is his, and wind-swift thought and city-founding mind; and he
has learnt to shelter him from cold and piercing rain; and has devices to
meet every ill, but Death alone. Even for desperate sickness he has a
cure, and with his boundless skill he moves on, sometimes to evil, but then
again to good.

The Greeks, however, were remarkably free from supersti-
tion, considering the age in which they lived. The “ city found-
ing mind” does not reach its fullest opportunities until it has
cleared away superstition. For one in peril of his soul does
not think freely or accurately on all matters which pertain to
him. Some of the agents which man has used in clearing away
superstition may now be mentioned.

THE PLACE OF BIOLOGY IN THE LIFE OF A NATION

Century after century man has been struggling to break
down convention and obtain opportunity for the expression of
his individuality. Often he has been defeated in the struggle
and the progress of the world has halted for a time, or a par-
ticular nation has fallen into stagnation. But each time, some-
where in the world, man, driven by the forces within him, has
sooner or later broken through the particular system of conven-
tion which aroused his anger. Man’s reaction against conven-
tion may be viewed as a biological reaction. Man has attempted

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 233

to provide an environment, social and political, which permits
the expression of individuality and which is worthy of man.
Science has had its part in the struggle, and on the whole, it
has been a worthy part. A brief statement of the place of sci-
ence in the life of a people may be given here.

In the long run, the material advancement of the world has
rested upon mathematics and the physical sciences generally,
and the freedom of human thought from superstition, upon the
natural and biological sciences. Not a railway is constructed,
nor a great building erected, nor an ocean liner launched with-
out previous mathematical calculation. The fundamental im-
portance of all branches of mathematics for all branches of
engineering is so well known as to need no further comment.

It is not so generally recognized, however, that man’s free-
dom from superstition has come about through the development
of the natural and biological sciences. But mothers in civilized
countries no longer cast their children into the fiery image of
Moloch to appease the gods who sent the plague in their wrath.
We kill the plague-bearing rats and drain the swamps where
the disease-bearing mosquitoes breed. Yet superstition lingers
in the popular mind as an evidence that the task of biology is
still unfinished. But on one point, biology has a clear, definite
and unequivocal statement to make, and that is, no ruler holds
his throne by divine right. The wisdom of all the doctors can
not convince us to the contrary. If it is seriously believed in
any country that autocratic rulers have any special prerogatives
denied by the gods to ordinary mortals, it is a reflection upon
the state of biology in that country. Nor is the biologist in-
clined to regard with much favor the claim of a people or nation
to divine guidance in a greater measure than is granted to their
neighbors. Much bloodshed might have been avoided if it had
been clearly recognized that all claims of this sort rest upon
superstition and not upon any rational foundation. From past
experience one might predict what the reaction of man would
be to any attempt to interfere unreasonably with the exercise
or expression of his individuality. We may, then, look a little
more closely into the elements that aroused a man’s anger at
the outbreak of the war.

(To be concluded)

bo
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THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN

By Dr. BENJAMIN HARROW
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

S every school child knows to-day, the illuminating gas we

use in our homes is largely obtained from the dry dis-

tillation of coal; but many men and women even to-day are not

aware that, in addition to illuminating gas, other products of

far-reaching commercial importance are also obtained from
this same coal.

Among these coal-tar stands out preeminently. Not so
many years ago it was a waste and anuisance. To-day it rivals
the coal-gas in utility.

From this dirty black tar, by a series of distillations, we
get benzene and toluene and naphthalene and anthracene—to
mention but four important substances—which are the start-
ing-point for countless products of the dye and synthetic drug
variety.

Out of benzene, for example, we can get aniline, and from
the latter, Perkin, in 1856, obtained the first artificial dyestuff
ever produced.

Born in England, the dye industry was reared and devel-
oped in Germany; and Germany owes much of its greatness,
and very much of its downfall, to it. For the dye industry
proved a nucleus for many other related industries. Thus dyes
gave rise to the manufacture of sulphuric and nitric acids and
caustic soda; these in turn to artificial fertilizers, explosives,
and chlorine; and the latter to poison gas with all its concomi-
tants. The medicine in small doses and the poison in large;
chlorine as an antiseptic and chlorine as a destroyer—give them
but the wrong twist, and man’s ingenuity becomes positively
harmful.

Perkin was born in London in 1838. He was the youngest
son of George Fowler Perkin, a builder and contractor, who
had apparently decided his son’s future before the latter had
discarded his swaddling clothes. Perkin, Jr., was to be an
architect. ,

But Perkin, Jr., had not yet decided for himself. Perhaps
it was a street-car conductor one day, a prime minister the next,
and an engine driver the third. And then again, watching his
father’s carpenters at work, he wished to become a mechanic

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN 235

of some kind; and plans for buildings fired him with the ambi-
tion of becoming a painter.

In any case, in his thirteenth year he had an opportunity of
watching some experiments on crystallizaticn. It goes with-
out saying that he forthwith decided to be a chemist.

Were it not that about this time Perkin entered the City of
London School, and there came in contact with one of the
science masters, Mr. Thomas Hall, this latest decision might
have been as fleeting as his previous ones.

The City of London School, like all important educational
institutions of the day, considered science as an imposter in the
curriculum, so that whilst Latin received a considerable slice of
the day’s attention, poor little Chemistry could be squeezed in
only in the interval set aside for lunch.

A few boys, and among them Perkin, were sufficiently inter-
ested to forego many of their lunches and watch “‘ Tommy Hall”
perform experiments.

Hall’s infectious personality made young Perkins all-enthu-
siastic. He was going to be a chemist, and he was going to the
Royal College of Science, of which, and of its renowned chem-
ical professor, Hall had told him much.

Hall’s earnest pleading finally overcame the father’s oppo-
sition, and in his fifteenth year Perkin entered the College.
“Mr. W. Crookes,’ the assistant, was the one immediately
in charge.

The head professor was Hofmann, an imported product.
So suggestive and illustrative were the great chemist’s lectures
that, in the second semester, Perkin begged and obtained per-
mission to hear them once again.

In the laboratory Perkin was put through the routine in
qualitative and quantitative chemistry, Bunsen’s gas analysis
methods serving as an appendix. This was followed by a re-
search problem on anthracene, carried out under Hofmann’s
direction, which yielded negative results, but which paved the
way for successful work later. His second problem on naph-
thylamine proved somewhat more successful, and was subse-
quently published in the Chemical Journal—the first of more
than eighty papers to appear from his pen.

When but seventeen Perkin already had shown his mettle
to such an extent that Hofmann appointed him to an assistant-
ship. This otherwise flattering appointment had, however, the
handicap that it left Perkin no time for research. To over-
come this the enthusiastic boy fixed up a laboratory in his own

1The late Sir W. Crookes.

236 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

home, and there, in the evenings, and in vacation time, the lad
tried explorations into unknown regions.

The celebrated experiment which was to give the seventeen-
year-old lad immortality for all time was carried out in the
little home laboratory in the Easter vacation of 1856. It arose
from some comments by Hofmann on the desirability and the
possibility of preparing the alkaloid, quinine, artificially.

Starting first with toluidine, and then, when toluidine gave
unsatisfactory results, with aniline—both being products of
coal tar—Perkin treated a salt of the latter with bichromate of
potash and obtained a dirty black precipitate.

Dirty, slimy precipitates had been obtained before and had,
as a rule, been discarded as objectionable by-products. Per-
kin’s first instinct to throw the “rubbish” away was overcome
by a second, which urged him to make a more careful examina-
tion. And this soon resulted in the isolation of the first dye
ever produced from coal tar—the now well-known aniline pur-
ple or mauve.

A sample of the dye was sent to Messrs. Pullar, of Perth,
with the request that it be tried on silk. “If your discovery
does not make the goods too expensive, it is decidedly one of the
most valuable that has come out for a long time . . .” was the
answer. ‘Trials on cotton were not so successful, mainly be-
cause suitable mordants were not known. This second result
somewhat dampened the enthusiasm of our young friend.

Nevertheless, Perkin decided to patent the process, and, if
possible, to improve the product, as well as to find improved
means of application.

Full of hope and courage, the young lad had decided to stake
his future on the success or failure of this enterprise. He was
going to leave the Royal College of Science, and with the finan-
cial backing of his father—who seems to have had a sublime
faith in his son’s ability—he was going to build a factory where
the dye could be produced in quantity.

Hofmann was shown the dye and was told of the resolution.
The well-meaning professor, who seemed to have had more
than a passing fondness for the lad, tried all he could to per-
suade Perkin against any such undertaking. And let it be
added that in that day, to any man with any practical common
sense, Perkin’s venture seemed doomed from the start.

A site for the factory was obtained at Greenford Green,
near Harrow, and the building commenced in June, 1857.

“At this time,” wrote Perkin years later, “neither I nor
my friends had seen the inside of a chemical works, and what-
ever knowledge I had was obtained from books. This, how-

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN 237

ever, was not so serious a drawback as at first it might appear
to be; as the kind of apparatus required and the character of
the operations to be performed were so entirely different from
any in use that there was but little to copy from.”

The practical difficulties Perkin had to overcome were such
that, in comparison, the actual discovery of the dye seems a
small affair. Since most of the apparatus that was required
could not be obtained, it had first to be devised, then tested, and
finally applied.

Nor was this all. Raw materials necessary for the manu-
facture of the dye were as scarce as some rare elements are
to-day. Aniline itself was little more than a curiosity, and one
of the first problems was to devise methods of manufacturing it
from benzene.

The country was searched high and low for benzene. Finally
Messrs. Miller and Co., of Glasgow, were found to be able to
supply Perkin with some quantity, but the price was $1.25 a
gallon, and the quality so poor that it had to be redistilled.

Now the first step in the conversion of benzene to aniline
was to form nitrobenzene, and this required nitric and sulphuric
acids in addition to benzene. Here again the market did not
offer a nitric acid strong enough for the purpose. This had
first to be manufactured from Chili saltpeter and oil of vitroil
(sulphuric acid), and special apparatus had to be devised.

Bechamp’s discovery three years earlier, that nitrobenzene
could be converted into aniline by the action of finely divided
iron and acetic acid was now developed for industrial use, and
here again special apparatus had to be devised.

To-day the most fundamental operations in every dye fac-
tory are nitration—the conversion, say, of benzene to nitro-
benzene—and reduction—the conversion of nitrobenzene to
aniline. The mode of procedure, the technique, the apparatus
—all are based on the work of this eighteen-year-old lad. Only
those who have attempted to repeat on an industrial scale what
has been successfully carried out in the laboratory on a small
scale, will appreciate the difficulties to be overcome, and the
extraordinary ability that Perkin must have possessed to have
overcome them. Think of a Baeyer who synthesized indigo in
his university laboratory, and then think of the twenty years
of continuous labor that was required before the Badische Ana-
lin Fabrik, with its hundreds of expert chemists and mechanics,
was in a position to produce indigo in quantity. And it would
have taken them and others much longer, but for the pioneer
work of young Perkin.

Some have described Perkin’s discovery as accidental. Per-

238 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

haps it was. But consider the way it was perfected and made
available; consider with what extraordinary ability every re-
lated topic was handled; consider how every move was a new
move, with no previous experience to guide him; and who but
one endowed with the quality of genius could have overcome all
this? Hertz discovered the key to wireless telegraphy, but
Marconi brought it within reach of all of us; Baeyer first syn-
thesized indigo, but the combined labors of chemists in the
largest chemical factory in the world were necessary before
artificial indigo began to compete with the natural product;
Perkin both isolated the first artificial dyestuff and made it
useful to man.

In less than six months aniline purple—‘ Tyrian purple”
it was at first called—was being used for silk dyeing in a Mr.
Keith’s dye-house. The demand for it became so great that
many other concerns in England, and particularly in France,
began its manufacture. In France it was renamed “mauve,”
and “mauve” it has remained to this day.

Perkin’s improvements continued uninterruptedly, and his
financial success grew beyond all expectations. He found that
the uneven color often obtained in dyeing on silk could be en-
tirely remedied by dyeing in a soap bath. The use of tannin as
one of the mordants made it applicable to cotton, and shades
of various kinds and depths of any degree could be attained
without any difficulty. A process for its use in calico printing
was also worked out successfully.

When, three years later, Verguin discovered the important
magenta—or, as it is sometimes called, fuchsine—and later still
Hofmann, his rosaniline, various details in the manufacture of
mauve and its application to silk, cotton and calico printing,
were appropriated bodily.

Young Perkin had given tremendous impetus to research in
pure and applied chemistry. In the preparation of dyes, sub-
stances which had, until then, been curiosities, had now become
necessities, and methods for their preparation had to be de-
vised. This led to incalculable research in organic chemistry.
In fact, it is hardly too much to say that the basis for most of
the development in organic chemistry since 1856 lies in Perkin’s
discovery of mauve.

Industry has not been the only beneficiary. It will be re-
membered that using the dye, methylene blue, as a staining
agent, Koch discovered the bacilli of tuberculosis and cholera.
And coal-tar dyes are to-day used in every histological and bac-
teriological laboratory.

So rapid had been the progress of the industry that in 1861,

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN 239

Perkin, who, though only twenty-three, was already recognized
as the leading English authority, was asked by the Chemical
Society to lecture on coloring matters derived from coal-tar,
and on this occasion the great Michael Faraday, who was pres-
ent, warmly congratulated Perkin upon his fine lecture.

Such dimensions has the coal-tar industry assumed since
then that in 1913, at one single factory, the Baeyer works, in
Elberfeld, Germany, there were employed 8,000 workman and
330 university-trained chemists.

Says Punch:

There’s hardly a thing that a man can name
Of use or beauty in life’s small game

But you can extract in alembic or jar

From the “ physical basis” of black coal-tar—
Oil and ointment, and wax and wine,

And the lovely colors called aniline;

You can make anything from a salve to a star,
If you only know how, from black coal-tar.

In his little laboratory at the factory the various attempts
made in improving the methods of manufacture were not the
only time-consuming factors. The chemical constitution of
mauve and related dyes, as well as purely organic questions
not in any way related to dyes, also engaged Perkin’s atten-
tion, and he began to contribute what was to prove an uninter-
rupted stream of papers to the Transactions of the Chemical
Society. In 1866 he was elected to a fellowship in the Royal
Society.

The year 1868 is memorable in the annals of chemistry as
dating the first artificial production of alizarin, the important
coloring matter which until then had been obtained exclusively
from the madder root. This great triumph was due to the
labors of Graebe and Liebermann. But the triumph for the
time being was purely a scientific one. The process as worked
out by these two chemists was far too costly to compete with
the method used in extracting the dye from the madder root.

The starting point to the artificial production of alizarin
was anthracene, another important coal-tar product. It so hap-
pened that the first piece of research Perkin had ever been con-
nected with was related to anthracene, a topic taken up on the
recommendation of his teacher, Hofmann. Naturally, Graebe
and Liebermann’s synthesis aroused his interest. He wished to
find some method of producing it at less cost.

In less than a year Perkin had solved the problem. A modi-
fication of the method dispensed with the use of bromine, which
was very costly. A patent was taken out in June, 1869, at about

240 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the same time that Perkin’s process had been discovered quite
independently by Graebe, Liebermann and Caro.

Just as in the case of mauve, the supply of raw materials
and the mastery of technical details, involved much labor and
ingenuity.

To begin with, a constant and generous supply of anthra-
cene was necessary. But where was this to be had? The tar
distillers had had no use for it, and had not troubled to separate
it in the distillation of tar. Many, indeed, there were among
them who did not even know of its existence.

With the help of his brother the various distillers in the
country were visited and the method of isolating the anthracene
from the tar distillate was shown them. The promise that all
anthracene thus obtained would be bought and paid for gen-
erously assured the Perkins of a plentiful supply.

The purification of the anthracene so obtained, the details
of the entire process of manufacturing alizarin and the types
of apparatus to be employed, were all exhaustively investi-
gated. By the end of 1869 one ton of the coloring matter in the
form of a paste had been made. This was increased to 40 tons
in 1870, and to 220 tons in 1871. Until 1873, when the Germans
also began manufacturing it, the Greenwood Green works were
the sole suppliers.

In 1874 Perkin sold his factory, and from henceforth de-
voted himself exclusively to pure research.

Perkin exemplifies the type, more common than is often
supposed, though one entirely beyond the comprehension of the
average business man, who loves the quiet pursuit of research
beyond aught else. Perkin exploited his discovery solely with
the view of providing himself with an income, modest in the
extreme, but sufficient for his extremely simple wants. To ex-
plore unknown fields at leisure and to be freed from all money
matters whilst doing so were his aims.

When Perkin left the Royal College of Science at seventeen
he had this in mind. Financial insecurity may spur one on, but
to give the very best that is in one requires freedom from such
burdens.

What led him to give up the factory and to devote himself
exclusively to pure science was sheer love of the subject. It is
the type of love which, when associated with genius, has led
to the world’s greatest literary and artistic productions.

After 1874 Perkin moved to a new house in Sudbury, and
continued to use the old one as the laboratory.

His research work from now on touched but lightly upon

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN 241

the dye situation. Until 1881 it centered much around the
action of acetic anhydride on a group of organic compounds
known as aldehydes. The first important result that was here
achieved was the synthesis of coumarin, an odorous substance
found in the tonka bean. This was the first case of the produc-
tion of a vegetable perfume from a coal tar product.

These researches culminated in the now classical ‘‘ Perkin’s
Synthesis” of unsaturated fatty acids—a group reaction which
is studied by every student in chemistry to-day.

In 1879 Perkin was the recipient of the Royal Medal of the
Royal Society, the other awards of the year going to Clausius,
for his investigation of the mechanical theory of heat, and
Lecoq de Boisbourdron, for the discovery of the element
gallium. The president addressed Perkin as follows:

Mr. William Perkin has been, for more than twenty years, one of the
most industrious and successful investigators of organic chemistry.

Mr. Perkin is the originator of one of the most important branches
of chemical industry, that of the manufacture of dyes from coal-tar
derivatives.

Forty-three years ago the production of a violet-blue color by the addi-
tion of chloride of lime to oil obtained from coal-tar was first noticed, and
this having afterwards been ascertained to be due to the existence of the
organic base known as aniline, the production of the coloration was for
many years used as a very delicate test for that substance.

The violet color in question, which was soon afterwards also produced
by other oxidising agents, appeared, however, to be quite fugitive, and the
possibility of fixing and obtaining in a state of purity the aniline product
which gave rise to it, appears not to have occurred to chemists until Mr.
Perkin successfully grappled with the subject in 1856, and produced the
beautiful coloring matter known as aniline violet, or mauve, the produc-
tion of which, on a large scale, by Mr. Perkin, laid the foundation of the
coal-tar color industry.

His more recent researches on anthracene derivatives, especially on
artificial alizarine, the coloring matter identical with that obtained from
madder, rank among the most important work, and some of them have
greatly contributed to the successful manufacture of alizarine in this
country.

Among the very numerous researches of purely scientific interest
which Mr. Perkin has published, a series on the hydrides of salicyl and
their derivatives, may be specially referred to; but among the most prom-
inent of his admirable investigations are those resulting in the synthesis
of coumarin, the odoriferous principle of the tonquin bean and the sweet-
scented woodstuff, and its homologues.

The artificial production of glycoccll and of tartaric acid by Mr. Per-
kin conjointly with Mr. Duppa afford other admirable examples of syn-
thetical research... .

It is seldom that an investigator of organic chemistry has extended
his researches over so wide a range as is the case with Mr. Perkin, and his
work has always commanded the admiration of chemists for its accuracy
and completeness, and for the originality of its conception.

VOL vi.—l6.

242 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

In 1881, Perkin turned his attention in an entirely new
direction, that of the relationship between the physical prop-
erties and the chemical constitution of substances. Gladstone,
Brith] and others were already busy connecting such physical
manifestations as refraction and dispersion with chemical con-
stitution. Perkin now introduced a third physical property,
first discovered by Faraday: the power substances possess of ro-
tating the plane of polarization when placed in a magnetic field.

With this general topic Perkin was engaged to the year of
his death. His work has thrown a flood of light upon the con-
stitution of almost every type of organic compound, some, such
as acetoacetic ester and benzene, being of extraordinary fasci-
nation to every chemist.

There are chemists—and H. E. Armstrong is among them—
who regard this phase of Perkin’s life work as his crowning
achievement. If it has not received such general recognition as
his earlier work, that is to be largely ascribed to a lack of
knowledge of physics which prevailed among chemists until
quite recently. However, even as far back as 1889 Perkin was
presented with the Davy Medal of the Royal Society as a re-
ward for his magnetic studies.

The year 1906 marked the fiftieth anniversary of the
founding of the coal-tar industry, and the entire scientific world
stirred itself to do honor to the founder. A meeting was held
on July 26 of that year at the Royal Institution in London, over
which Professor R. Meldola, the then president of the Chemical
Society, presided, and those in attendance included some of the
most distinguished representatives of science in the world.

The first part of the meeting consisted in the presentation
of his portrait (painted by A. S. Cope, A.R.S.) to the guest of
the evening. A bust of Perkin (executed by Mr. Pomeroy,
A.R.A.), for the library of the Chemical Society, was next
shown. In addition the chairman stated that a fund of several
thousand pounds had been collected for the endowment of
chemical research in the name of “Sir William Henry Perkin”
(he had been knighted in the meantime).

Professor Emil Fischer, president of the German Chemical
Society, presented to Perkin the Hofmann Medal, which was
accompanied with this address:

Die Deutsche Chemische Gesellschaft hat Herrn Dr. W. H. Perkin in
London Fiir ausgezeichnete Leistungen auf dem Gebiete der Organischen
Chemie, in besonderen fiir die Begriindung der Teerfarben-Industrie, den
Hofmann-Preis verliehen. Berlin, im Juli, 1906. Der Prasident: E.
Fischer. Die Schriftfiihrer: C. Schotten, W. Will.

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN 243

Professor A. Haller, representing France, presented Perkin
with the Lavoisier Medal, with this address:

La Société Chimique de Paris, a l’occasion du Jubilée destinée A
célébrer la cinquantiéme anniversaire de la premiére matiére colorante
dérivée de la houille, et comme témoignage de haute estime pour ses
travaux, est heureuse d’offrir au Dr. William Henri Perkin, Inventeur de
la Mauvéine (1865), sa Médaille de Lavoisier a l’effigie de celui qui fut
Yun des premiers et des plus illustres applicateurs des Sciences Chimiques
a Vindustrie et a la prospérité publiques. Le Secrétaire-Général: A.
Béhal. Le Président de la Société Chimique de Paris: Armand Gautier.
Juillet, 1906.

Addresses were also delivered by Dr. Baekeland, represent-
ing the chemists of America; Professor Paul Friedlander, on
behalf of the scientific and technical chemists of Austria; Pro-
fessor P. Van Romburgh, Holland; Professor H. Rupe, Switzer-
land; Lord Kelvin, representing the Royal Society; and Pro-
fessor Meldola, on behalf of the English Chemical Society.

A passage from the Chemical Society’s report is worth
quoting:

. .. However highly your technical achievements be rated, those
who have been intimately associated with you must feel that the example
which you have set by your rectitude as well as by your modesty and sin-
cerity of purpose is of chiefest value. That you should have been able, as
a very young man, to overcome the extraordinary difficulties incident to
the establishment of an entirely novel industry fifty years ago is a clear
proof that you were possessed in an unusual degree of courage, inde-
pendence of character, judgment, and resourcefulness; but even more
striking is your return into the fold of scientific workers and the ardor
with which you have devoted yourself to the prosecution of abstract
physico-chemical inquiries of exceptional difficulty. In the account of
your renowned master, Hofmann, you have stated that one of your great
fears on entering into technical work was that it might prevent your
_continuing research work; that you should have felt such regret at such a
period is sufficiently remarkable, and it must be a source of enduring satis-
faction to you to know that your later scientific work deserves, in the
opinion of many, to rank certainly no less than your earlier.

How much Perkin was appreciated in Germany, where the
coal-tar industry had developed into such gigantic proportions,
is shown by the delegation that came from that country. There
were Professor Bernthsen, Dr. H. Caro and Dr. Ehrhardt, of
the Badische Analin und Soda-Fabrik; Dr. Aug. Clemm, Herr
R. Bablich, and Dr. E. Ullrich, Farbwerke, Meister, Lucius, and
Briining; Dr. Klingeman, Casella and Co., Professor Carl Duis-
berg and Dr. Nieme, Farbenfabriken, Elberfeld, and Professor
Liebermann—in short, the cream of Germany’s industrial chem-
ical fraternity.

244 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

And there were messages from Professor Beilstein (Petro-
grad), Professor Ciamician (Bologna), Professor Canizzaro
(Rome), Professor Jorgensen (Copenhagen), Professor Taka-
yama (Tokyo), Professor Adolf Baeyer (Munich), Professor
J. W. Briihl (Heidelberg), Professor G. Lunge (Zurich), and
Professor Hugo Schiff (Florence)—an international band of
illustrious scholars.

In the autumn following the jubilee celebrations in London,
Sir William Perkin accepted an invitation from the American
committee to visit its shores. Various gatherings were held
in his honor in New York, Boston, Washington, etc.

In New York a dinner was tendered him at Delmonico’s,
with the veteran Professor Chandler, of Columbia, in the chair.
Dr. W. H. Nichols presented him with the first impress of the
Perkin Medal, since awarded annually to the American chemist
who has most distinguished himself by his services to applied
chemistry; and Dr. W. F. Hillebrand, then president of the
American Chemical Society, presented the diploma of honorary
membership of the society to the guest of the evening. Other
speakers included President Ira Remsen of Johns Hopkins,
Professor Nernst of Berlin, and Dr. W. H. Wiley, chief chemist
of the Department of Agriculture, Washington.

Aside from his scientific achievements Perkin’s life was
extremely uneventful. To him science was his life, and he
seems to have had no avocation. We find no romantic dash, no
such many-sidedness, as characterized his great countryman,
Ramsay, for example. With modesty carried to the extreme,
only the privileged few knew anything of the man, and even
Professor Meldola, an intimate friend of many years’ standing,
could give but few personal touches of the man in his otherwise
excellent obituary address, delivered to the members of the
Chemical Society. ‘‘. . . I thank God, to whom 1 owe every-
thing, for all His goodness to me, and ascribe to Him all the
praise and honor.” ‘This was Perkin’s review of his life in
1906. A blameless Christian, a perfect gentleman, a fine type
of the old conservative, he lived unobtrusively, worked quietly
and intensively, worshiped God, and respected his neighbor.
To us, living in days of turmoil and upheaval, such a personage
already belongs to an age long past.

Perkin was twice married. His first wife was a daughter
of the late Mr. John Lisset. Some years after her death he
married a daughter of Mr. Herman Molwo. Mrs. Perkin, three
sons, and four daughters, survive him.

WILLIAM HENRY PERKIN 245

His sons are all noted chemists. One of them, Arthur
George, is a technical expert, and another, William Henry, is
professor of chemistry at Oxford. This Oxford professor is
without doubt the foremost organic chemist in England to-day.
His work on polymethylenes, alkaloids, camphor, terpenes, etc.,
is of the highest order.

Like that other grand Englishman, Darwin, Perkin, the
genius, begot Perkins of genius. Not always are the gods so
kind to the children of geniuses.

To great ends and projects had thy life been given;

Right well and nobly has the goal been won;

For this, O Great Discoverer, thou hast striven;

Take, then, our thanks, for all that thou hast done.
(Nora Hastings,—dedicated to Perkin).

246 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MOMENT

By Dr. HARRY D. KITSON
UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

NE of the expressions most frequently heard in these days
() of catchwords and high-sounding phrases is the term,
“psychological moment.” The term is applied to the most
widely varying circumstances, from such relatively inconse-
quential affairs as the feeding of the baby to such momentous
events as the precipitation of a World War; it is applied with
equal readiness to the moment when the astute evangelist feels
it proper to urge his hearers to hit the sawdust trail, and to the
time when the seducer feels he may without fear of rebuff press
his victim to take the first drink. No kind of human affairs
appears too sacred and no kind too frivolous to be exempt from
the influence of the psychological moment. As further evi-
dence of the aptness of the term to cover a multitude of situa-
tions we find it applied to affairs in which there is no psychical
factor whatever, such as a rain so timed as to Save a corn-crop,
or to the eruption of a geyser. From these instances we see
that the term is a very useful one, playing a large part in the
speech and thought of the day. True, it smacks somewhat of
esotericism, but such connotation is belied by the fact that the
term is not employed exclusively by savants, but is employed
with equal glibness by the man of the street and even by high-
school students.

Despite the popularity of the term it is likely that those who
hobnob with it would be at a loss if asked to define it and give
its characteristics. This is not to be wondered at, for the events
that occupy such a moment are essentially psychic; they can not
be touched and handled but only felt, and feelings are hard to
describe. Most people would probably describe the moment as
a time when some important issue hangs in the balance; as a
time just preceding events of great consequence, when anything
which is done has a serious effect upon succeeding events. An
introspective account might employ such terms as “delicacy of
equilibrium ” and “nice adjustment of motives.” It is a time
when receptive and active processes are in abeyance to such an
extent that we can “hear a pin drop.” Then something occurs
to break the tenseness, a change in action or feeling ensues and
the moment is over. It has been noted in literature by Shake-
speare who calls it

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MOMENT 247

a tide in the affairs of men,
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.

Napoleon pointed out its importance in deciding the fate
of battles:

In all battles, a moment occurs when the bravest troops .. . feel in-
clined to run. That terror proceeds from a want of confidence in their
own courage; and it only requires a slight opportunity, a pretense, to
restore confidence to them. At Arcola I won the battle with twenty-five
horsemen. I seized that moment of lassitude, gave every man a trumpet,
and gained the day with this handful. You see that two armies are two
bodies which meet and endeavor to frighten each other; a moment of panic
occurs, and that moment must be turned to advantage. When a man has
been present in many actions he distinguishes that moment without diffi-
culty; it is as easy as casting up an addition.

But so important a factor in human affairs deserves more
than such passing comment. A psychic phenomenon so fraught
with possibilities for action and feeling challenges serious at-
tention and scientific analysis if we are to attain skill in con-
trolling it.

In making a scientific classification of the states of mind
that are most often accompanied by the moment we should
designate them as feelingful and volitional. Examples of the
former are numerous in the drama when the audience sits spell-
bound through a tense scene until the climax comes, which is
nothing but the psychological moment. Examples of the latter
may be found when not feeling but decision and action mark the
critical change. For the sake of concreteness, let us take a voli-
tional situation in which the presence of the psychological mo-
ment is clearly to be discerned. One of the best examples is
the sale, for here are found the accompaniments of the psycho-
logical moment in all their poignancy. Furthermore, the proc-
ess of selling touches so intimately the experience of every one
that a psychological analysis of it will have intrinsic interest
apart from its value in illustrating the theoretical aspects of the
psychological moment.

The psychology of the sale is a most fascinating subject and
deserves more lengthy consideration than can be given here.
We must content ourselves in this illustrative treatment with
the statement that a sale psychologically considered is a series
of progressive mental changes on the part of the buyer, leading
to an act of will which culminates in satisfaction. This defini-
tion will serve for every deliberated sale, whether it involves
the purchase of a stick of candy or of an automobile. The task
of the salesman throughout is to develop certain states of mind
on the part of the buyer, all leading to the final mental state.
The act of will is our present concern. True, its adequate anal-

248 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ysis requires a thorough study of the psychology of volition,
which is beyond the scope of our present purpose, but we shall
confine ourselves merely to one stage in its progress.

The first principle of voluntary action to be considered is
that before such an action can occur there must be in the mind
an idea or thought of the act. An idea of the end to be attained
must inevitably precede the attainment of an end. For example,
in such a simple act as drawing a straight line, the directness
with which one reaches the end of the line depends upon the
intentness with which one keeps in mind the idea of the end.
It is the anticipation of the effects of an act that is the pre-
cursor of a voluntary act. Applying this principle to a sale we
see that the idea of purchase must be present, hence the first
task of the salesman is to inject it into the mind of the buyer.
So important is this initial idea that we shall hereafter for
rhetorical purposes personify It and speak of It in capitals,
though the reader is warned that such practice is strictly
frowned upon in orthodox psychological circles. We shall take
this liberty, however, for in these days when the psychological
aspects of business operations are only dimly recognized we
should be pardoned if we state things with slightly bizarre
effect, in our efforts to show their importance. But apart from
such claims to anthropomorphism, the Idea is important enough
on other grounds to deserve capitalization, for sometimes It is
able to set off our actions almost automatically. Through a
kind of action technically known as ‘‘ dynamogenesis,” It occa-
sionally passes over into action immediately and many sales
occur without the exertion of any effort on the part of a sales-
man. For example, the Idea, “baseball score” is strong
enough in its own right to lead us without further locution of
thought, to reach into our pocket for a coin and buy a paper.
Such a purchase is so shorn of voluntary characteristics as not
to furnish us with an illustration of the psychological moment.
But not all sales are of this “hair-trigger ” type, and most Ideas
even though carefully implanted in the mind do not lead directly
to purchase but require manipulation. Indeed such is the case
with all our deliberative sales, and an analysis of the fortunes
of the Idea will lead us to our goal, the psychological moment.

The word analysis is used advisedly, for it indicates the true
condition of affairs, namely, that at time of a sale there is more
than one Idea in mind; there are many ideas there, each one poten-
tial of initiating appropriate action, and if any single purchase is
to be consummated the corresponding Idea must be strengthened
and the other ideas, eliminated. Accordingly, we see that in
psychological terms the problem in making a sale is to strengthen

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MOMENT 249

the central Idea in the mind of the buyer. How this may be
done is a tale full of dramatic situations. Take, for example,
the sale of an automobile. The buyer enters the salesroom
already inoculated with the Idea of purchase. But, alas, he
comes with many other ideas in his mind at the same time. He
has, for example, an idea as to how his bank account will be
depleted if he purchases a car; on the other hand, he has an idea
of the pleasures which attach to motoring. Again, in addition
to the Idea of this particular Car he has ideas about several
other cars—lower-case i and c this time—which he has examined
or intends to examine. All these ideas and many others throng
upon his mental field until if it were graphically represented it
would resemble a full-moon containing a central circle, freckled
with numerous circlets of different sizes representing the ideas
with their different strengths. It will be seen that these ideas
bear different relationships to the central idea, some being
hostile, others sympathetic. Whether they hinder or help they
must be reckoned with and must be manipulated to the glory of
the Idea, which must be nourished and expanded to such a de-
gree that its bulk will crowd out all the other ideas. This task
of nourishment confronts every salesman; indeed, from the
psychological standpoint the salesman is not a vender of auto-
mobiles but a manipulator of ideas. His task is to fan the
flame of the Idea until it becomes to the buyer the consuming
interest in life. Beside it, everything must shrink to nothing-
ness—the about-to-be-ravaged bank-account, the heart-rending
burden of upkeep, the mortgage on the house, last year’s unpaid
coal-bill—all must be forgotten in the overpowering compulsion
of the Idea. And the Idea must remain the greatest thing in
the world long enough for the purchaser to sign his check or
sign the pay-as-you-use contract.

To a superficial view the task of the salesman might seem to
be that of taking hold of these unwelcome ideas and thrusting
them into outer darkness, but such a conception is erroneous
and will lead to egregious error. If the mind of the buyer con-
tains the idea of another car the proper procedure is not to
dilate negatively upon that car in the effort to drive it out of his
mind. Every word uttered about that car acts as food for the
unwelcome idea and causes it to wax larger and larger. The
practise of criticizing or condemning a rival commodity is being
recognized as poor business ethics, but we may go still farther
and say that to speak either in praise or blame of rival goods
is poor psychology, for every word makes the undesired idea
still more troublesome.

What are the methods, then, by which the undesirable ideas

250 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

may be forced out of the mind and the desired one enhanced?
The answer is to force all attention upon It and when this
happens, the strength of the undesired ideas automatically
decreases. The psychological situation may become clearer
when described in terms of brainenergy. The brain, accord-
ing to some psychologists, is organized into a number of idea-
tional systems, one for each idea that exists in the mind. Any
ideational system may be roused into action by the drainage
into it of brain energy. Now the energy of the brain may be
distributed in various amounts over different systems, the
amount in each system depending upon the strength of the cor-
responding idea. In the case of our sale, if the main Idea is to
grow in strength its brain-system must drain off from the
other systems the brain energy resident within them until the
energy of the brain is all drained off into the one system,
which means the triumph of the Idea.

Reverting to our psychological description of the sale, we
might pause at this stage and elaborate upon methods of
strengthening the Idea, but that would require a digression
from our main interest—the psychological moment. Suffice it
to say the process consists in using concrete material with
which to embellish the Idea. The salesman must dilate upon
the specific virtues of the car, upon the power and smoothness
of the engine, the luxurious ease of the springs, the elegance
of the upholstery; then he must attach as allies to the Idea, the
subsidiary ideas that lurk sympathetically in the background
of the mind of the buyer, showing how the car may be used to
transport oneself and family to sylvan spots, how it may assist
one to radiate an air of prosperity, and the like. And with
each increment added to the strength of the Idea there is a
corresponding diminution in the strength of the undesirable
ideas until finally they all dwindle away, and the Idea is left
with undisputed sway.

But we have been moving too rapidly in our description,
and have passed over the magic moment. It comes just before
the Idea bursts forth into action, when there is only a vestige
of a contradictory idea making a last valiant. stand against
annihilation. And what a desperately uncertain period it is,
and how the soul of the salesman is wrung with anguish!
Though outwardly calm, he is inwardly consumed with anxiety.
Will the carefully nourished Idea be powerful enough to rout its
last bold opponent or will some hostile idea by a sudden sally
pierce its none too sound armor? He realizes also the extreme
delicacy of the moment and prays heartily that no untoward
stimulus may arise to disrupt the delicate balance of brain-

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL MOMENT 251

energy. He knows from bitter experience how small a thing
may destroy his work. He has seen many an “ otherwise per-
fectly good sale” lost because of an empty fountain-pen, a tele-
phone call, a baby’s cry, an accident in the street. Anything,
however unrelated to the commodity, may spoil the sale. Any
salesman can describe a score of such catastrophes which make
him assert that the psychological moment is the most critical
stage in the sale. And he does not overstate the fact. The ex-
perience of sales managers goes to show that the salesmen who
fail are deficient most frequently in ability to get past the
psychological moment. They make a good approach, arouse in-
terest in the goods and create strong desire, but are unable to
make a good closing. They err in two ways—in trying to force
a decision too soon, before the Idea has had time to reach its
maximum dimensions, or in delaying to press for a decision
until after the Idea has ripened and decayed. In either case,
their error lies in a failure to recognize the psychological
moment.

How may one recognize the psychological moment and how
may one cultivate a sensitiveness for its approach? Undoubt-
edly there are signs that accompany it, for successful salesmen
sense it readily. Their awareness of it, however, is not a
vividly self-conscious matter, for they can not tell how they
recognize it. If pressed for a description of their method, they
would probably say, by intuition, and this may serve as well as
any other word. But the process of intuition may be further
analyzed and is found to be a process of conscious apprehension
through sense avenues which we all possess. Many of the
things that warn of the approach of the moment in the sale are
small involuntary movements on the part of the buyer, such as
slight inclinations of the head and trunk, minute contractions
and relaxations of bodily muscles. Even so slight a change as
that in the size of the pupil of the eye may serve to indicate to
the practised salesman that the portentous moment has arrived.
Other more obvious signs may consist of verbal responses of the
buyer, for the skilful salesman does not do all the talking in
engineering a sale; instead he throws out frequent feelers in the
form of questions, and by the warmth of the response, can
judge how nearly a decision has been reached. A hundred cues
such as these are present and are automatically used by the
expert salesman in regulating his conduct when the moment
arrives.

Upon recognizing the moment what steps may the salesman
take to see that it is passed most auspiciously? Our psycho-
logical analysis just completed will suggest several steps that

252 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

may be taken to increase the chances of success. One measure
of prime importance is to stage the sale so that there will be no
disturbances while it is in progress; for we have seen that every
disturbance, no matter how trivial, means the introduction of a
new idea into the mind of the buyer and a dislodgment of the
balance of brain energy. In view of such danger the salesman
should carefully isolate his buyer and separate him from things
and people. This is the great psychological advantage of using
a hotel show-room.

Another prophylactic measure is to have conditions favor-
able for immediate consummation of the sale. There must be
no awkward delay when the moment arrives. The contract
should be ready and the writing utensils at hand. All should
move as smoothly as a theatrical preformance. Indeed, a sale
in many ways resembles a drama and should be rehearsed with
equal propriety.

As a third way of meeting the moment the following plan
may be recommended: Assume that the sale is made—that the
purchaser has decided to buy; and this will be true if the sales-
man has judged the moment rightly. He might indicate that
he knows the decision has been made by the wording of his next
remark: Which color of upholstery do you prefer? or, Do you
wish immediate delivery? Or sometimes, his remarks should
be so put as to commend the decision which he knows has been
made. Careful observation will show that many purchasers,
after having made up their minds, really desire to be talked to
for a while in order to hear their choice justified; so very often,
such a line of talk is the best accompaniment to the psycholog-
ical moment.

This brief attempt to characterize the psychological moment
has shown that it is a common phenomenon of mental life; that
whenever it occurs, it marks a time of great importance in
human affairs; that it is a period of very delicate equilibrium to
be met with great sagacity and cunning. By means of our
homely illustration taken from the everyday business of selling,
we have seen that in spite of the occult connotation of the term,
the phenomenon is not a miracle to be controlled by a few
gifted initiates possessing mysterious powers of divination, but
that it is a natural occurrence resulting from a clash of ideas
under important circumstances; that it exhibits itself in observ-
able changes in human behavior, readily apparent to any one
who will study them. To one who thus recognizes the presence
of this interesting psychological phenomenon and seeks to
understand it, is given a new conception of the significance of
human behavior and a vision of far-reaching possibilities of
influencing and controlling it.

THE SUN, HEALTH AND HELIOTHERAPY 253

THE SUN, HEALTH AND HELIOTHERAPY

By GUY HINSDALE, A,M., M.D.

HOT SPRINGS, VA., ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF CLIMATOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY
OF PENNSYLVANIA

HE relation of the sun to human health and the vital func-
tions is of such great importance that any phase of this
subject is deserving of serious consideration. We are accus-
tomed to accept, without question, the beneficent influence of
solar light and heat, knowing as we do that actinic and chemical
solar rays are necessary for the maintenance of animal and
vegetable life upon our globe. These influences reveal them-
selves in greater or less degree according to the seasons and
in the various zones into which we are accustomed to divide
time and place in our planetary existence.

But meteorologists and astronomers and students of geo-
physics are constantly dealing with problems of more subtle
type and have devised instruments, the very names of which
are scarcely known beyond the physical laboratories and obser-
vatories now maintained for research in these hidden realms of
the solar and terrestrial forces. Among them we may mention
as preeminent in this field the Carnegie Institution of Washing-
ton, with its department of research in terrestrial magnetism;
the geophysical and physico-chemical laboratories; and the
solar observatories on Mount Wilson, in California, and at
Calama, Chile, belonging to the Smithsonian Institution. We
have also the United States Weather Bureau with its trained
experts and well-equipped research laboratories and observing
stations ; and the Smithsonian Institution with its astrophysical
observatory at Washington. The British Empire has its Royal
Meteorological Society, with observatories at Kew, Greenwich
and Stonyhurst; France, its Société Astronomique under the
direction of the distinguished M. Flammarion and, in addition,
the Bureau Central Météorologique.

Some have supposed that the sun’s electric energy has an
influence upon human health and vital functions at the earth’s
surface, so the author made inquiry of the directors of these
institutions and laboratories which have been enumerated. It
would appear, however, that the value generally assigned to
this phase of the sun’s energy at our distance from it, approxi-
mately 93,000,000 miles, is small.

254 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY
In conversation with the late Professor Cleveland Abbe, of
the Weather Bureau, he told the writer that we have very little
knowledge of the sun as a source of electric energy except as it
affects our magnets. It is an immense source of energy; but
the gravitational or potential, thermal, optical, actinic and mag-
netic effects are the only ones that have as yet been measured.
The electromagnetic influences of the sun and moon on the
magnetic needle at the earth’s surface have been observed for
many years and a magnetic influence may also be attributed to
the same forces that produce the sun spots. This is a manifes-
tation of electric energy transformed into magnetism.

Whenever so-called mag-
netic storms are manifested
either by the auroral light, or
by disturbance on our telegraph
wires or ocean cables, these are
explicable in general as the
transformation of waves of
electric influence or energy,
analogous to those that are
used in our aerial or wireless
telegraphy; but measurements
of their intensity have as yet
been confined to the Department
of Terrestrial Magnetism.

On applying to the Bureau
of Standards, Washington, Dr.
S. W. Stratton, the director,
said that there appears to be no
doubt that the magnetic field at
the earth’s surface is affected
by disturbances upon the sun;
the electrical field in the earth’s

mM 15, Pry

SUMMARY OF OBSERVATIONS AT THB
Kew OBSERVATORY, ENGLAND. Dr. Chree,
Diurnal Variation in Terrestrial Mag-
netism. The scale is indicated by the
line showing the length equivalent to 50

atmosphere is also affected, at
least indirectly, by the radiation
from the sun. Those effects
are revealed by the observa-

volts. (Volts per meter.) A 3
tional study of terrestrial mag-

netism and of atmospheric electricity. As the action of any of
these fields or of their changes upon health is independent of the
source of the fields or of their changes, a simple problem would
involve ignoring the source, whether the sun or something else,
and seeking merely the relation between health and the mag-
nitude and variation of these fields as observed on the earth.

THE SUN, HEALTH AND HELIOTHERAPY 255

According to George Mahomed, of Bournemouth, who has
summarized the daily and monthly observations made by Dr.
Chree, the director of the Kew Observatory, the fluctuations in
days and months are very considerable. They show a diurnal
variation. The maximum of potential occurs in the summer
months at about 8 A.M., and between 8 and 10P.M. In the win-
ter the maximum is about 10 A.M. and the evening maximum
at between 6 and 8 P.M. The readings are always higher in
winter than in the summer. The morning minimum is about
4 A.M., throughout the year; the afternoon minimum is usually
about 2 P.M. In the winter the weather conditions which ac-
company a high barometer favor the existence of high values
and big diurnal changes in the potential. But in summer the
barometric readings and the mean, the range, of daily varia-
tions of potential maximum seem to have no relation. A high
potential occurs indifferently with a high or low barometer.’

It is admitted that the earth is negatively electrified and the
atmosphere positively. This negative electrification of the
earth is probably not uniform and we know that currents of
greater or less intensity exist. The states of atmosphere vary
considerably in the amounts of positive electricity they hold;
but owing to the proximity of these differently electrified bod-
ies there is a strain between them to establish an equipoise or,
in other words, the tension may at times be broken by the
earth giving up negative electricity and the atmosphere giving
up positive electricity in order to form an equilibrium. The
intensity with which this seeks to be established is called poten-
tial. The electroscope shows this by the behavior, the diver-
gence, of the gold leaf. Mahomed illustrates very well this
matter of potential by depicting a pointed, towering rock that
tends to get rid of negative and attract thereby positive elec-
ricity, when the potential in the neighborhood will be relatively
high. Air currents condensed into a cloud in the higher strata
would carry a positive charge; while those formed on the
ground or the side of a mountain would probably carry a nega-
tive charge. If clouds of these two types should meet a sudden
alteration of potential would result. The author has frequently
witnessed such an interchange in the mountains of Virginia.
In the western portion of the state there are numerous parallel
ridges with deep and narrow intervening valleys. It occasion-
ally happens that an electric discharge takes place from the
summits of these ridges into the atmosphere. There is noth-
ing audible, but merely a sudden glow of the higher clouds

1 Proceedings, Royal Society of Medicine, December 8, 1909.

256 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in the dark night, and it is possible that the presence of iron-
bearing strata may have something to do with determining the
electric tension thus manifested.

* Andes lightning ” is the name given to a very striking luminous dis-
charge of electricity seen over the crest of the Andes, in Chile, in a region
where ordinary thunderstorms are almost unknown. The mountains
appear to act as gigantic lightning rods, between which and the clouds
silent discharges take place on a vast scale. Whether these phenomena
have any solar connection, that is whether they are induced by previous
exposure to solar radiation, we do not know. Such phenomena are ob-
served elsewhere, but whether they may be related to vital functions or
influence health in any way it is also difficult to say. We know, however,
that the sun is positively electrified and the earth negatively and we would
expect the potential to be highest near the surface of the latter. Mo-
hamed has suggested that the heating of the earth’s surface gives rise to
a better ionization of adjacent portions of the atmosphere; it is a fact,
probably, that no discharge of electricity takes place in the absence of
electrons. These minutest particles of negative electricity have a velocity
comparable to that of light. It is further known that the magnetic cur-
rents have a daily motion from west to east, that this motion is most
marked in the tropics, while other currents go from the tropics to the
poles; these latter through their property of deflecting the electrons into
their course give rise to the aurora borealis. Sun spots, which are prob-
ably attended with high ionization hence give rise to disturbances of the
magnetic fields of the earth’s surface. It is probable that in these magnetic
disturbances at the earth, very indirectly of solar origin, there may be
some subtle influence on the human nervous system.

It was shown by Hale that there are magnetic fields in the
sun spots. He was aided by the work of Zeeman, who discov-
ered that powerful magnetic fields may split an ordinary single
spectrum into several components.

All solar rays, whether visible or photographically active, or not, pro-
duce heat when absorbed upon a blackened surface. Sometimes the infra-
red rays are called heat rays, the light rays, visible rays; and the blue,
violet and ultra-violet, “active” or “ photographic rays’; but there is no
distinction of kind between these things. All are regarded as transverse
vibrations of the luminiferous ether, differing only in the wave length.

Waves of all wave-lengths produce their just effect when transformed
into heat. Though both are forms of energy, radiation is not heat, but
may be transformed completely into heat. We regard radiation as wave
motion in the ether, heat as irregular motion of the molecules of material
substances.

Sunlight has the power of ionizing the air, but there is a
marked difference in the degree of ionization between that of
the air at sea-level and at higher stations. Even in strong sun-
shine the surface air is only slightly ionized, but at the height
of a few miles, as in balloon ascensions, the ionization may be
twenty times as great as at the surface. Sunlight has also been

THE SUN, HEALTH AND HELIOTHERAPY 257

found to have the power of discharging the antenne of wire-
less stations. It has also been found that rays received verti-
cally have far more ionizing power than those received tan-
gentially. Electric rays travel best by day in the narrow shell
of dielectric between some stratum in the middle atmosphere
and the surface of the earth.

It is a well-known fact that terrestrial auroras, northern
lights and southern lights follow the sun spot periodicity and
with this periodicity there is also a noteworthy change in the
earth’s magnetic field. This latter connection is very close as
seen by the magnetic curves plotted by Dr. C. G. Abbot in his
work on “‘ The Sun.’”

Abbot says that great sun spots often seem to be the direct

Years [830 I8e9 1850 1860 1670 1880
THE FULL CURVE SHOWS SuN Spor RELATIVE NUMBERS. Dotted Curve, Diurnal
Range Magnetic Declination. Data of Wolf and Young.

promoters of great magnetic disturbances and auroral displays,
and that the earth’s surface air temperature is, on the whole,
lower at sun spot maximum than at sun spot minimum. It is
only within the last ten years that we have had any direct
measurement of solar radiation sufficiently accurate and com-
plete to show these changes. Hale by his discovery of the ex-
istence of magnetic fields in sun spots has added to our knowl-
edge of these very remarkable phenomena. Even the form in
which matter exists in the sun has only lately been found to be
gaseous. At least that is Abbot’s and Schmidt’s conclusion.
But are the sun spots, after all, potent for good or evil as
far as we are concerned? Very few, aside from professional
astronomers, have ever seen them, but nevertheless they appeal
strongly to the popular imagination. There is undeniably
much mystery about them. These fascinating phenomena are
huge uplifts of metallic vapors in which vanadium, titanium
and iron are evident, while at the top of these immense vortices
there is an inflow of hydrogen and vapor of calcium. As they
2 Page 187.

VOL. vil.—17.

258 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

expand, lose heat and absorb solar light, they appear dark by
contrast; so that, instead of 6,000 degrees Cent., which is the
estimated temperature of the sun’s surface, their temperature
drops to approximately 3,500 degrees Cent. The magnetic
field which has been detected in sun spots is believed to be due
to the friction of the various vapors and gases and chemical
compounds in the stupendous whirling motion that character-
izes them.

Among those who have lately thrown light on this question
is Dr. A. L. Cortie, the distinguished astro-physicist of Stony-
hurst College Observatory. He does not believe that there is
any basis for the impression that these spots in their immensity
act directly to cause magnetic storms on the earth, although
it is admitted that these do accompany the appearance of large
active spots on the sun. His explanation is of great interest
and may be correct. He says:

The fields are much too weak, at the enormous distance of the sun, to
allow of any such direct action. But great solar outbursts must be accom-
panied by a copious outflow into surrounding space of electrified particles
called electrons. The earth is a great magnet, and its lines of force cut
the surrounding atmosphere, which, as the barometer shows, has a diurnal
oscillation. Hence we have matter moving across lines of force. If one
takes a magnet and thrusts it into a coil of wire which is connected to a
delicate galvanometer which can show the existence of electric currents,
the needle will be deflected, indicating the flow of an induced electro-
magnetic momentary current. But it is obvious that the wire must be a
conductor. A non-conducting material would not have an induced cur-
rent produced in it. Substitute for the magnet and its lines of force the
earth and its lines of force, moving relatively to the atmosphere. Evi-
dently if the atmosphere, which is ordinarily a non-conductor, can be made
a conductor electromagnetic currents will be produced in it. Now, when
the copious streams of electrons from a disturbed area strike the upper
atmosphere of the earth it does become a conductor, or, as it is termed, is
ionized. Hence electromagnetic currents are set up, as indicated by the
aurora borealis; the earth currents are induced, which upset by their fields
the normal magnetic field of the earth, and our instruments record mag-
netic storms. The source of the energy, therefore, which causes magnetic
storms is the rotation of the earth; the electrification of the upper atmos-
phere simply pulls the trigger and enables the forces to be operative.*

All this has a very important commercial and military bear-
ing when we consider that the sun itself can take a hand in the
conduct of a great war. Not that the sun should stand still
as in the days of Joshua in the battle of Ajalon, but that it
should tie up the great wireless plants on which modern war-
fare relies for daily aid.

With the cutting of the German-owned Atlantic cable at the

3 Current Opinion, November, 1917.

THE SUN, HEALTH AND HELIOTHERAPY 259

beginning of the war, Germany had to fall back upon her wire-
less plants in order to transmit news and official or diplomatic
messages through a channel not controlled by her enemies.
For this the Sayville station on Long Island for a time became
the distributing center, the wireless messages being thence
transmitted by neutral cable or telegraph to all parts of the
world. But when the aurora borealis appeared in May, 1915,
the service was suddenly severely handicapped and for several
weeks the messages received were for the most part frag-
mentary or often impossible to decipher. The same situation
existed in Tuckerton, New Jersey, much to the dismay of the
German owners.

We think it a very significant fact that electric waves, as,
for example, those used in the wireless telegraphy, travel with
the velocity of light, or at the rate of 186,330 miles per second
and it suggests a very close relationship,—more than a mere
analogy,—between light and what we designate as electricity.
Radiant energy, therefore, proceeding from the sun may be
held to include light, heat and electricity and it might be unjus-
tifiable to differentiate too closely between them as we have
been wont to do in the past. As we have intimated, our knowl-
edge of some of these attributes of the sun is of very recent
date.

As Dr. Abbot, the director of the Astrophysical Observatory
of the Smithsonian Institution, says in his work, which we
have freely quoted:

That which the sun sends to the earth in such abundance used to be
considered as three distinct things, namely,—actinic or chemical rays;
light, or visible rays; heat, or invisible rays. These distinctions are
known to be misleading. . . . All rays may be totally transformed to pro-
duce heat, however they may differ in their effects upon the eye, or in
different chemical substances. All these rays travel with equal velocity
in free space.

We are thus compelled to take a very broad view of solar
radiation and to give to the electric energy of the sun a wider
scope than at first thought would seem appropriate. Thus it is
that heliotherapy, the principles of which we shall outline,
may owe some measure of its efficacy to the electric energy of
the sun. We are very far yet from a complete understanding
of X-rays, the Finsen light, heliotherapy and other forms of
radiant energy, not to speak of Marconi waves as applied to
man’s needs in other fields.

We all know that the disturbances of the mental and nerv-
ous equipoise are often traceable not only to social environment,
but to climatic conditions and, in the belief of the ancients, and

260 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

even of some of the present day, to lunar influences. That
solar irradiation has a considerable influence is undoubtedly
true. It is constant; clouds may intervene, but cannot wholly
check its power.

There is at the present time a remarkable interest in what
is known as heliotherapy. This branch of physical therapy
is winning an established place in the treatment of tubercu-
losis both of the bones and joints and of the pulmonary organs.
During the last ten years heliotherapy has been systematically
applied in these affections at suitable stations in the Swiss
Alps, and on the French Coast, both on the Mediterranean and
Atlantic shores and in Alton, in Hampshire, England. It has
also been carried out to some extent in America, but not with
the thorough and painstaking methods adopted in Europe.

One of the most ardent exponents of heliotherapy is Dr. A.
Rollier who, during the last sixteen years, has treated upwards
of 1,500 patients, both children and adults, by gradual expo-
sure to solar irradiation at his institutions in Leysin, near St.
Moritz, Switzerland.

At the French marine stations, notably Berck-Plage, Hyeres
and Cannes, the same method of treatment is adopted and the
same good results obtained. The proportion of cures in ad-
vanced and apparently hopeless cases of surgical tuberculosis
seems incredible. Rollier’s clinical records, fortified with pho-
tographs taken on admission and discharge, fully corroborate
his reports and dispel what might be a pardonable incredulity.

The author has recently brought to the attention of Ameri-
can physicians this remarkable development of tuberculother-
apy and begs to refer to his essay on ‘The Atmospheric Air
and Tuberculosis,” Smithsonian Institution, Washington, 1914.

Rollier has succeeded in training his patients, both children
and adults, by systematic and strict methods adapted always
to the individual case so that they live in the free air of the
Alps almost wholly naked, but apparently in perfect comfort;
the training begins with exposure to the air and, afterwards,
exposure to the sunlight, solar radiation, constituting helio-
therapy. Under no circumstances does Rollier allow the pa-
tient to be exposed to the sun on the same day or even on the
day following his arrival in the mountains. According to the
gravity of the case or the general resistance of the patient,
from three to ten days are allowed for acclimatization to the
altitude and training for the air cure. Children seem to dis-
play an especial tolerance for exposure to sunshine.

There is one remarkable feature of the higher Alpine re-

THE SUN, HEALTH AND HELIOTHERAPY 261]

sorts such as Leysin, Davos and St. Moritz, and that is that
there is a vast difference between the temperature of the air
in the sunshine and in the shade. Although snow may be lying
on the ground, temperatures of 95 to 100 degrees Fahr. or even
higher in the sun are not uncommon.

Sunlight has considerably more actinic force at these moun-
tain stations than at the seashore, and hence the time required
for the deep pigmentation essential to the solar cure is probably
less than elsewhere. But even Rollier and others in the Swiss
Alps have strongly urged the adoption of heliotherapy at the
seashore sanatoria, and this is now quite as successfully accom-
plished. Rollier’s record of over 1,500 patients and over 1,200
cures is one of the greatest contributions to modern surgical
progress and especially to the fight against tuberculosis.

Heliotherapy in America.—In this country there is every
opportunity for practising heliotherapy for tuberculosis and in
the wider field which includes many chronic medical and surgi-
eal conditions not necessarily tubercular. There are now in
military hospitals many cases of tuberculous disease of the
bones and joints; and in addition, there are the inevitable tor-
pid wounds, fistulas, and the gangrene, frost bite, and trench
foot and the effects of caustic gases lately a part of military
practise. Many of the sufferers are sent to Vichy and Aix-les-
Bains for the baths; others are sent to Berck-Plage and to
Cannes and other marine stations for the additional help of
heliotherapy.

Dr. Albert Robin, in his work on tuberculosis, cites the well-
known facts that the luminosity of the sea air and the power
of the solar radiation at the seaside are very intense. The
refraction of light by the sea water gives special properties
with luminosity. Thesea water absorbs the ultra-red rays that
are calorific; it reflects the yellows (luminous) and the blue
and violet rays that are chemical rays, the bactericidal action
of which is recognized. Light is one of the best health-giving
agents; it stimulates all the acts of animal life, particularly
oxidation.

The luminosity of the sea air helps, then, to give it a more
stimulating action than does the air of inland regions.'

Dr. Robin believes that the sodium chloride, iodine and
silica (which he showed to be present at Berck-Plage) must
exist in sea air in a state of ionization, or perhaps in a physical
form which develops their radioactive properties. They in-

4 Albert Robin, “ Treatment of Tuberculosis” (English translation),
J. & A. Churchill, London, 19138, p. 380.

262 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

crease the phenomena of oxide reducing hydrolysis which oc-
cupy the first rank in the acts of disassimilation in organic life.
This makes us suspect, if not state precisely, the important part
that must be taken by the chemical elements contained in sea
air. All of them stimulate the exchanges, this in itself being
one of the conditions of remineralization.

The author would strongly urge the establishment in the
Rocky Mountain region, preferably in southern California,
Colorado or New Mexico, perhaps in connection with some ex-
isting institution, of a true sun cure for tuberculosis. Such a
locality is eminently suitable for heliotherapy, now for years
most successfully carried out in the Swiss Alps by Rollier, and
it should not be forgotten that his methods with their brilliant
results are applicable not only in the class of cases commonly
termed ‘surgical’ tuberculosis, 7. e., bone and joint tubercu-
losis, but in pulmonary disease as well.

The time has come to give this method a thorough trial in the
elevated, sunny and dry air of the Rocky Mountain region and
Southern California, the climatic features of which justly hold
first place in the climato-therapy of tuberculosis. Among the
places in America where heliotherapy has been attempted there
is a great difference in the amount and quality of sunshine, the
sine qua non of successful treatment. Nevertheless it has been
carried out in such variable climates as at Sea Breeze Hospital
on Long Island, in Narragansett Bay, at Perrysburg (forty
miles from Buffalo), and at the Children’s Seashore House, At-
lantic City. But it is in Colorado, New Mexico and southern
California where the hours of sunshine are most uniform and
least liable to interrupt the cure. Physicians in these states
have already reported most encouraging results.

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 265

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM AS A
TYPE OF MANY PROBLEMS OF
MARINE ZOOLOGY

By Dr. BARTON WARREN EVERMANN,
DIRECTOR, MUSEUM, CALIFORNIA ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

HERE are in the North Pacific three closely related species
Aa of fur seals. One of these, known as the Japanese fur
seal (Callorhinus kurilensis), has its rookeries chiefly on Rob-
ben Reef, in the Okhotsk Sea, with still smaller rookeries on one
or more of the Kuril Islands. These constitute the Japanese
fur-seal herd, which is the smallest of any. It is said this herd
in 1911, contained but 6,557 seals. The second species has its
breeding grounds on Bering and Copper Islands of the Com-
mander Group off the coast of Kamchatka. This species (Cal-
lorhinus ursinus), constitutes the Russian fur-seal herd which,
in1911 contained between 18,000 and 30,000 seals. The third
species is the Alaska fur seal (Callorhinus alascensis), whose
breeding grounds are on the islands of St. George and St. Paul
of the Pribilof Group in Bering Sea, about 200 miles from the
nearest point on the mainland of Alaska. This species consti-
tutes the Alaska or American fur-seal herd which, according to
the census of 1911, contained 127,745 seals. The Alaska fur-
seal herd is not only much larger than both of the other herds
combined, but the fur is regarded as superior.

RUSSIAN CONTROL OF THE ALASKA FUR-SEAL ISLANDS

The Pribilof Islands, the only land on which the Alaska fur
seals ever haul out for any purpose, were discovered in 1786, by
Gehrman Pribilof, who for three years or more had been ex-
ploring Bering Sea in the interest of a Russian fur company.
He at once took possession of the islands in the name of Russia.
For the next thirteen years the islands were exploited by vari-
ous rival companies. There was no thought of conservation,
with the result that the herd was almost destroyed by 1798.
In 1799, the Pribilof Islands, together with all the rest of
Alaska, passed into the hands of the Russian-American Com-
pany. This company carried on the sealing business with auto-
cratic power and with slight appreciation of the necessity of
avoiding methods calculated to bring about the extinction of the
herd, until in 1867, when Alaska was purchased from Russia by

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

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THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 265

the United States. In the season of 1868, the first of American
occupation, two rival companies killed seals on the islands in
the most reckless manner. The Congress then made the seal
islands a government reservation and during the season of
1869, the killing was conducted under the direction of the
Treasury Department. Then the islands were leased for a
term of twenty years beginning in 1870, to the Alaska Com-
mercial Company. This company was given the exclusive
privilege, under the direction of the Treasury Department, of
killing seals on the islands. The essential features of this lease
were: (1) No female seals to be killed, (2) no male seals under
one year old to be killed, (3) the killings after August to be
limited to supplying food to the natives, (4) the total number
to be killed in any one year not to exceed 100,000.

Upon the expiration of this lease the islands were again
leased on March 12, 1890, but to a new concern, the North
American Commercial Company. The lease was again for a
period of twenty years and differed from the old lease chiefly in
that no quota was fixed, except for the year 1890, when it was
not to exceed 60,000, and the revenue derived by the govern-
ment was $10.2214 per skin as against $3.1714 under the first
lease.

Under these leases the companies were permitted to kill
seals only on the land; they were not permitted to kill seals in
the ocean.

KILLING SEALS ON THE LAND

The number of seals in the American herd when it came
into the possession of the United States was very great; in 1875
it was estimated at 4,700,000. This number is undoubtedly
very much too great; probably half that number would be a
very liberal estimate. At any rate, it is quite certain that an
annual kill of 100,000 young male seals could then be made
without in the least endangering the herd.

So long as the killing was confined to the land it was easy so
to regulate the killing as to permit an annual take of 100,000
young males and yet maintain the herd at a high degree of pro-
ductivity ; in other words, the annual kill of 100,000 young male
seals would be made good by a net increase of at least 100,000
young males reaching the killing age each year.

HABITS OF THE FUR SEAL

The fur seal is highly polygamous, living in the ocean the
greater part of its life, and coming out upon the land only
during the breeding season, which is in the summer from June

266 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

until in the fall. The breeding males are called bulls; the breed-
ing females are called cows; the young are called pups; young,
non-breeding males (from one to five or six years old) are
called holluschickie, or bachelors. As the breeding season ap-
proaches the breeding seals begin landing upon the islands.
With them come the bachelors, especially those more than one
year old. The old bulls haul out first, each taking up a favor-
able position on shore and capturing as they land and holding
in his harem as many cows as he can control. The number of
cows in a harem may range from one to one hundred, the num-
ber varying with the abundance of bulls. The harem of average
size under proper regulations will contain perhaps twenty-five
to forty cows. Besides the breeding bulls there will usually be
a varying number of half bulls, surplus bulls or waiting bulls,
ready to become harem masters whenever opportunity offers.
The number of surplus bulls will be few if the annual killings
for the past few years have been excessive, or they will be many
if the annual killings have not been large enough. Careful
regulation of the killings is therefore essential to keep the num-
ber of surplus bulls within safe limits.

During the breeding season, the old males remain con-
stantly on shore, never leaving the land until late in the fall.
The cows, after their pups have been born, make frequent trips
out in the ocean, often going 100 to 250 miles from the islands,
to their feeding grounds. The younger bachelors also return
to the water from time to time.

It is thought that the majority of young seals under two
years of age, both males and females, remain in the water until
in the fall, and come out on the land in force only when two
vears of age or older.

In the fall of the year, after the breeding season is over and
the pups have learned to swim, the entire herd leaves the land
and takes to the sea. In the winter they go as far south as off
the southern California coast. Their migration route has been
only roughly determined. In the spring they return to the
islands. During this return they appear in numbers off the
coasts of Washington and British Columbia, in the Gulf of
Alaska and in the passes among the Aleutian Islands. During
this return migration the cows are heavy with young and spend
much time sleeping on the surface of the water. Each cow
produces a single pup, which is born within a few days after
she reaches the islands. She is served by the bull within a few
days after her pup is born; the period of gestation is therefore
only a few days short of one full year.

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 267

PELAGIC SEALING

As already stated, so long as seals were killed only on the
land it was possible to regulate the killing in such a way as to
maintain the herd at its maximum size and productivity. The
essential regulations would be: (1) Kill no females; save them
all for breeding purposes. (2) Of the natural annual incre-
ment of commercially desirable young males (say those from
three to five years of age), kill all except such number as may
be needed to provide the necessary number of bulls each suc-
ceeding year. This number can be determined very exactly
through carefully conducted scientific investigation.

During the forty years of leasing the killing on the land,
although carried on without any intelligent understanding of
the principles involved and in almost total ignorance of a num-
ber of the most important facts in the life history of the fur
seal, was, in the main, conservative and not seriously detri-
mental to the herd. But in the last years of the iease of the
Alaska Commercial Company, in the late eighty’s, a new factor
was introduced. Certain persons, chiefly Canadians of Vic-
toria, British Columbia, discovered that the hunting of seals in
the ocean could be carried on with profit. They found that, by
falling in with the seal herd in the late winter and early spring
off the coast of Washington, British Columbia and southeast
Alaska, during the spring migration back to the Pribilof Islands,
and again with the mother seals in Bering Sea in summer and
fall when they visit their feeding grounds, large numbers of
seals could be killed and the business of pelagic sealing, as it
was called, made very profitable.

Following this discovery, the growth of the pelagic sealing
industry was very rapid and the herd diminished correspond-
ingly.

On the land, the killing can be, and was, selective; only sur-
plus or unnecessary males were killed. No such selection is
possible in pelagic sealing, even if the hunter were disposed to
select, which he never was. When the hunter sees a seal in the
water he can not tell whether it is a female or a male, so he tries
to get every seal he sees. Of those he kills or mortally wounds,
he probably does not recover more than one in five; some put
the ratio at one in ten. On the basis of five to one, the number
of seals killed outright or whose death was caused by the pelagic
sealers from 1890 to 1897, has been computed to have been
1,907,217 males, 3,814,434 females, or a total of 5,721,651 seals.
The total number killed on land during the same period on the
Japanese, Russian and Pribilof Islands was: females, none;
males, 350,268; from which it is easy to understand the cause

268 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of the rapid decrease of the fur-seal herd during the last decades
of the nineteenth century.

THE MODUS VIVENDI OF 1891 To 1893

The disastrous results of pelagic sealing had become so evi-
dent that the governments of the United States and Great
Britain agreed upon a modus vivendi on June 15, 1891.

The essential terms of this modus vivendi were that it closed
the eastern part of Bering Sea to pelagic sealing so far as the
subjects of the United States and Great Britain were concerned
and limited the killings on our islands to 7,500 annually—the
number required by the natives for food. The agreement was
put into effect too late to do any good in 1891, even if it were

SLEEPING BACHELOR SEAL,
Tolstoi Rookery, St. Paul Island, July 21, 1892. Photo by Evermann.

possible for it to have done so; the pelagic fleet had already
entered Bering Sea and begun killing seals, and when warned
out of the protected area, they crossed over to the western part
and continued their killing, which proved so profitable that the
number of boats actually increased next year.

The agreement, originally made for one year, was extended
to cover the seasons of 1892 and 1893.

TREATY OF FEBRUARY 29, 1892

As contemplated by the modus vivendi, a treaty was entered
into between the United States and Great Britain February 29,

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 269

1892, the essential provisions of which were: (1) The appoint-
ment of a commission to make investigations concerning the
habits of the fur seal, pelagic sealing, and the management of
the herd on the islands, and (2) the reference of all matters in
dispute to a tribunal of arbitration.

THE PARIS TRIBUNAL

This tribunal, consisting of seven arbitrators, met in Paris
in February, 1893, and concluded its labors on August 15,
following.

The American contention, as presented to the tribunal, was,
in brief, that the decline in the herd was due solely to pelagic
sealing; that pelagic sealing was indiscriminate, the kill con-
sisting chiefly of females heavy with young or of mother seals
with nursing young on the islands. The British contention was
that the proportion of females in the pelagic catch was incon-
siderable and that excessive killing on the land was the sole
cause of the decline in the herd.

It is interesting to note that of the five questions in dispute
submitted to the Paris Tribunal four were decided against the
United States, and the remaining one was of no importance!

The tribunal then drew up a set of regulations, in nine
articles, which the two governments agreed to observe. The
only one of these regulations that is of primary importance is
the first, which prohibited the subjects of Great Britain and the
United States from killing seals in Bering Sea within a zone of
sixty miles radius around the Pribilof Islands; and this, as well
as all the other regulations established by the tribunal, was
utterly useless in protecting the fur seal.

As previously stated in this paper, the cow seals during the
breeding season go 100 to 250 miles from the Pribilof Islands
to find suitable feeding grounds; indeed, practically all their
feeding grounds are now known to lie well outside the sixty-
mile zone.

The result was that pelagic sealing went merrily on so far
as Canada was concerned, but the United States on December
29, 1897, passed a law making it unlawful for any of its citizens
to engage in pelagic sealing at any time or in any waters, thus
putting squarely upon the British and such other nations as
might engage in pelagic sealing the entire responsibility for
such results as might follow from killing seals in the open sea.

FAILURE OF THE PARIS REGULATIONS

The Paris regulations proved therefore almost utterly use-
less in protecting the fur seal. In the first place, only the
United States and Great Britain were bound by the regulations.
Other nations that were interested and wanted to be parties to

270 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the treaty, for example Japan, but which were refused, were
not bound by the regulations. They had a perfect right to kill
seals anywhere on the high seas outside the three-mile limit,
and Japan was quick to exercise that right. That country
entered the field at once. Not being a party to the treaty of
1892, Japan was not bound by the Paris Tribunal regulations.

A MOTHER FUR SEAL AND HER PUP.

She could lawfully kill seals anywhere on the high seas, right
up to the three-mile limit around the seal islands.

They did so, and found the business quite profitable. So
destructive was pelagic sealing under the Paris Tribunal regu-
lations that the herd, by 1911, had been reduced to a mere rem-
nant of 127,745 seals all told, in spite of the fact that killing on
the land fell from 30,654 in 1896 to 12,006 in 1911.

UNITED STATES ABANDONS LEASING SYSTEM
At the close of the period for which the islands had been
leased to the North American Commercial Company for sealing

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 271

purposes, the United States decided to discontinue the leasing
system. This action was taken by Congress April 21, 1910,
upon the recommendation of Hon. Charles Nagel, then Secre-
tary of Commerce, and Hon. Geo. M. Bowers, Commissioner of
Fisheries. It provided that all sealing should hereafter be done
by the government and the skins taken to be sold by the govern-
ment to the best advantage. Beginning, therefore, with the
season of 1910, the sealing on the Pribilof Islands has been
carried on directly by the government.

TREATY OF DECEMBER 15, 1911

In the summer of 1911, a convention was signed by the
United States, Great Britain, Russia and Japan. By the terms
of this treaty, which became effective December 15, 1911, each
of the four governments signatory thereto, agred to prohibit its
citizens from engaging in pelagic sealing. This provision also
applies to the killing of sea otters. Great Britain and Japan
thus gave up their right to kill seals and sea otters in the sea
beyond the three-mile zone, a right which they undoubtedly pos-
sessed. In return for giving up this right, Great Britain and
Japan are each to receive 15 per cent. of all the skins that may
be taken on the land by the United States on the Pribilof
Islands, and like percentage of those taken by Russia on her
seal islands. In like manner Japan gives to the United States,
Great Britain and Russia each 10 per cent. of the land catch
from the small but growing herd under her jurisdiction.

CLOSE SEASON OF LAND KILLING

On August 24, 1912, Congress passed a law giving effect to
the treaty of 1911, and, unfortunately, including at the same
time a clause prohibiting all killing on the land for a period of
five years. There was, therefore, no commercial killing of fur
seals on our islands in 1913 to 1917, both inclusive. The terms
of the treaty relating to pelagic sealing are, apparently, being
observed and carried out in good faith, and the Alaska herd has
increased from 127,000 seals in 1911 to 530,492 in 1918, when
land killing was again resumed. This increase in the herd 1s
most gratifying and shows clearly that the herd recovered
rapidly upon the cessation of pelagic sealing.

GOVERNMENT HANDLING OF THE FUR-SEAL PROBLEM
In the main, the government has handled the fur-seal ques-
tion fairly well. The administration of the laws and regula-
tions by the Treasury Department, the Department of Com-
merce and Labor, and the Department of Commerce through
the Bureau of Fisheries and its agents on the islands, was faith-

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

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THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 275

fully and intelligently conducted, at least up to the enactment
of the close season law. However, several very serious mis-
takes have been made and it is to some of these that I now wish
to call attention.

The most serious mistakes which the government has made
have been: (1) Failure to realize that the fur-seal problem is,
primarily, a biological problem; (2) disinciination to listen to
the advise and council of scientific men; (3) failure to realize
that preservation of the fur-seal herds requires the cooperation
of several different countries.

Congress and the heads of the executive departments con-
cerned seem wholly unable to realize that proper laws and regu-
lations for the management and conservation of the fur-seal
herd must be based upon accurate knowledge of the life history
of the fur seal. Up to the time of the modus vivendi no study
had ever been made of the life history of the fur-seal by any
trained naturalist. It is true that many valuable observations
were made in 1873-74, but they were in the main inconclu-
sive; they were wholly so as to practically every fact of vital
importance.

How to tell the age of seals in the different categories, the
age at which the males and the females begin to breed, the
period of virility of each, the age to which each lives, the proper
size of the harem, to what extent the yearling males and females
appear on the land, the migration routes, feeding habits and
grounds, natural mortality, principal enemies ;—these are but
a few of the many questions which could not be definitely
answered, because the facts were not known.

In drawing up the terms of the modus vivendi, the United
States, because of its lack of knowledge on these essential mat-
ters, agreed to terms which afterward proved very embarrass-
ing, and very detrimental to the herd. The British said: “We
will stop killing seals in the eastern part of Bering Sea if you
will stop killing on the land.” And the United States stupidly
agreed; with the result that, while the number killed on the
land in those three years was 27,040, the number killed at sea
was 238,349. Stopping commercial killing on the land simply
left that many more for the pelagic sealers to get.

The modus vivendi was, therefore, a total failure as a pro-
tective measure, chiefly so because, through lack of accurate
knowledge of the feeding habits of the fur seal, we agreed to
terms that proved disastrous.

The same was true with the Treaty of 1892, the Paris
Tribunal, and the Paris Tribunal Regulations. Many things
were agreed to that were biological mistakes, because of our

VOL. vil.—18.

274 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

BREEDING BULL SEALS ON STARAYA ARTEL ROOKERY.
St. George Island, July, 1916. Photo by Hanna,

lack of complete knowledge. True, our commissioners made
certain proper statements before the Paris Tribunal, but when
they were disputed by the British, we were unable to support
our contentions with convincing evidence. We lacked full ac-
curate data to support our claims.

Naturalists many years ago began advising the government
to provide for careful scientific study and supervision of the
fur-seal herd. Our lack of knowledge of many of the essential
facts in the life history of those interesting animals was pointed
out again and again. The government was urged to place an
energetic, resourceful, carefully trained naturalist in charge of
the seal islands, with one or more trained assistants, so that the
seals would be under careful scientific observation for a series
of years. It was also urged that the naturalist to be put in
charge should be a man who had some knowledge and experi-
ence in the raising and handling of domestic stock, because it
was believed that the important principles of stock raising and
management will be found to apply to the fur seal. This recom-
mendation was made by the fur seal commissioners of 1891,

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 275

1892, 1896-97; by Captain Hooper of the Revenue Cutter serv-
ice, the Bureau of Fisheries, the Advisory Board of the Fur
Seal Service, and by many other naturalists. But it was not
until 1910, when Charles Nagel was Secretary of Commerce
and George M. Bowers Commissioner of Fisheries, that any
attention was paid to this recommendation. A naturalist was
then provided and serious, continued study of the fur seals was
began and continued until Wm. C. Redfield became Secretary
of Commerce. One of Mr. Redfield’s first acts was to abolish
the position of naturalist on the seal islands and to stop prac-
tically all natural history studies on the islands. Since 1915,
the agents on the islands have been discouraged from making
any study of the natural history of the islands; indeed, in one
case at least, it is said that an agent who is a trained naturalist
and who desired to carry on biological investigations and study
of the seal and other animals of the islands, was ordered not to
do so. (It is perhaps needless to say these orders were verbal ;
they were not put in writing.)

Perhaps the most discouraging condition with which we

FUR SEAL FANNING ITSELF ON A WARM DAY.
Polovina rookery, St. Paul Island, August, 1917. Photo by Hanna.

276 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

BULLS FIGHTING ON ROOKERY ON Sv. PAUL ISLAND, July, 1916. When there are
more bulls than are needed for breeding purposes vicious fighting results in which
breeding cows are injured, pups trampled to death, and great injury done to the
rookeries. This is one of the deplorable results of the very unwise law of 1912 which
prohibited the killing of the surplus males. Photo by Hanna.

have to deal is the attitude of the average congressman and the
average department head toward science and scientific men.
Perhaps scientific men have only themselves to blame for this.

During the past thirty years there have been numerous
fur-seal hearings before committees of Congress. ‘The printed
records of these hearings total many thousand pages. The cost
of the hearings has exceeded half a million dollars. Many
scientific men appeared before these committees, including
practically every naturalist who has ever visited the seal
islands. They were unanimous in their views and their recom-
mendations as to the questions at issue. Nevertheless, their
views were rarely accepted by the partisan committees, and
Secretary Redfield even penalized the officials in the Bureau of
Fisheries who expressed views in harmony with those of the
other naturalists who testified.

This lack on the part of congressmen and heads of govern-
ment departments to appreciate science or scientific men is all
too common. The scientific men who came in touch with gov-
ernment departments during the Great War know how true
this is.

But, as I have said, perhaps the scientific men are them-
selves largely responsible for this attitude of our law makers
and executives. If so, it is largely because of their extreme

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 207

modesty and dislike to enter into controversy with the powers
that be.

The third serious mistake which our government made was
its failure to realize that the fur-seal question is one that con-
cerns a good many countries. In 1892 and 1893, our states-
men thought it concerned only the United States and Great
Britain. Japan wanted to join the United States and Great
Britain in the Treaty of 1892, but she was virtually told it was
no concern of hers. Japan was thus left free to engage in
pelagic sealing, and she promptly entered the field, with most
disastrous results to the herd.

THE PARIS TRIBUNAL ALSO WAS A FAILURE

Before this tribunal the United States lost on every count
of any importance. Naturalists and other experts had been
called upon to supply data for the use of the commissioners and
they did so, but were not permitted to be present in person and
present the facts. The result was that when our commissioners
and lawyers who possessed only information, instead of knowl-
edge, concerning the fur seal, presented their case to the
tribunal they were easily confounded by the British whose ex-

-perts were at hand.

Our representatives were able men, to be sure, but through
lack of scientific training and appreciation of science, they
were not able to evaluate the biological data furnished them by

BACHELOR SEALS OR HOLLUSCHICKIR, being driven to the killing grounds.
Photo by Chichester,

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

‘uuRUdeAg Aq OJON

‘TEST ‘F oung ‘purysy 19ddo,)

“AUAMOOY VLIVIVd LV ONIGNVT SIVAS WAT NVISSAY

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 279

the naturalists or to present the data logically and convincingly
to the tribunal. The British were more wise because they de-
pended more upon their naturalists.

The Paris Tribunal Regulations were an absolute failure
for the same reason. Our representatives would not listen to
the Americans who knew most about the habits of the fur seal
and who were best able to advise them.

In this treaty of 1911 which abolished pelagic sealing, our
commissioners were more successful. They were more success-
ful because they more clearly appreciated the fact that the
fur-seal question is primarily a scientific question, and they
availed themselves of the services of the naturalists who were
most familiar with the life history of the fur seal. These men
were depended upon by our commissioners to a greater extent
than ever before. The treaty is a good one. The serious mis-
take that was made was the failure to invite China, Mexico and
several other countries to join in the treaty, as was urged by
the naturalists. Who can say how long it will be before seal-
ing schooners outfitted in China, Mexico, Peru or Chili, and
flying the flags of those countries, may play havoc with our
fur-seal herd? There is nothing to prevent them doing so;
they have a perfect right to do so; and now that the herd has
again grown to considerable size, the large profits from pelagic
sealing are sure to appeal strongly to adventurous characters
in those countries.

In short, Washington has not realized that the fur-seal
problem is one which concerns or may concern every nation
bordering on the Pacific.

The next and most inexcusable mistake of our government
was made in the act approved August 24, 1912, giving effect to
the treaty of 1911.

In that act two very unwise provisions were inciuded. The
first of these provided for a close season of five years (1912 to
1916) in which no commercial killing on the islands was per-
mitted; the other provided that there shall be reserved for
breeding purposes each:year from 1917 to 1926, 5,000 young
male seals.

As to the close season, it was not only unnecessary, it was
actually harmful. There was already an excess of breeding
males. To save all the males born each year is as absurd as it
would be for a poultry raiser to save all the roosters that are
hatched. The result has been that there are now several thou-
sand more bulls than are needed for breeding purposes.

And the saving of 5,000 young bulls each year up to 1926, to
grow up into breeding bulls will increase the number of breed-

280

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

be

Cow Fur Sra AND HER Pup.

THE NORTHERN FUR-SEAL PROBLEM 281

ing bulls enormously beyond the needs of the herd. The pres-
ence of surplus bulls about the rookeries always results in
severe fighting, causing injury to the cows, tramping pups to
death, and general demoralization of the harems. The census
of 1918 disclosed more than 2,000 dead pups, most of which had
been trampled to death.

There was only one man who had ever been to the seal
islands who advocated a close season and the large reservation
of males, and his purpose was vot the preservation of the fur-
seal herd. Every naturalist in America who was familiar
with the habits of the fur seal strongly protested against both
measures, as did also Hon. Charles Nagel, then Secretary of
Commerce, and Hon. Geo. M. Bowers, Commissioner of Fish-
eries, but without avail. When Wm. C. Redfield became Secre-
tary of Commerce, he was urged to recommend the repeal of
those provisions of the law. But Mr. Redfield, when a member
of Congress, had voted for the close season. And after becom-
ing Secretary of Commerce, he had pronounced the “close
season law as very wise and sound legislation for the protec-
tion of our seal herds.”” However, on May 26, 1914, he ap-
pointed a commission of three eminent naturalists to visit the
seal islands. The men appointed were selected “‘ because, not
having previously been identified with, or in any way con-
cerned with fur seals or the fur-seal controversy,” and it was
expected that their ‘‘observations and conclusions would be
uninfluenced by the past contentions.” Their main duty was
“to ascertain the actual state of the herd in 1914,” and to sub-
mit to the Secretary of Commerce upon their return “ recom-
mendations touching all important administrative matters
growing out of the international, economic, and biological rela-
tions of the seal herd,” and especially regarding “‘ the strength
of the surplus male life is relation to the close-time provisions
of existing law and to treaty obligation.”

Before proceeding to the islands, these naturalists were
warned not to talk with any one who had ever visited the seal
islands or who had any personal knowledge of fur seals. They
were, however, very diplomatically made acquainted with the
views of the secretary; that he had voted for the close season
law, that he was on record as saying that that law was “ very
wise and sound legislation for the protection of our seal herds,”
He had already taken positive stand on the matter and appar-
ently believed that his special commissioners, knowing his posi-
tion, would be accommodating and sustain him in his views.

But these three able naturalists were not of the type of men
with which politicians usually deal. They were investigators.

282 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The secretary did not know that scientific men search for truth
and, when found, proclaim it. These men went to the seal
islands seeking truth. They made their investigations and,
upon their return, promptly submitted their report. They
found that the close-season law, instead of being ‘‘ wise and
sound legislation’? was just the opposite, and wnanimously
recommended its immediate repeal!

Although the report was received by the secretary in ample
time for him to have gotten action, he pigeon-holed the report
and did not transmit it to Congress until February 17, only a
few days before Congress adjourned. And when he did trans-
mit the report to Congress, he studiously avoided calling atten-
tion to any of the recommendations made by the investigators
and refrained from making any recommendations of his own,
although his letter of transmittal contains 600 words!

The close-season law had already been in force two years
and had already caused a loss of more than a million dollars to
the government and great injury to the herd. But the secre-
tary contemptuously ignored the recommendations of experts
of his own choosing and permitted the pernicious law to run its
disastrous course. There were already many more bulls than
were needed for breeding purposes. Thousands of pups were
being trampled to death every year. The actual money loss to
the United States has exceeded $3,000,000, to say nothing of
the injury to the herd; and the loss to Great Britain and Japan
has been at least $450,000 each.

But it is hoped and believed that, as one of the results of the
world war, law makers and executives will hereafter be more
appreciative of science and scientific men. No question is
settled until it is settled right. This is no more true of any
question than it is of those questions which relate to biological
science. There are many such questions or problems in marine
zoology. The fur-seal problem is only one of them. The wal-
rus, the sea otter, the several species of sea lions and hair seals
including the elephant seal, the whales and the porpoises, all these
are animals that spend all or at least part of their lives beyond
the three-mile limit. Our knowledge of not one of these inter-
esting animals is such as is necessary to enable us to make
proper laws and regulations for its maximum utilization con-
sistent with the adequate conservation of the species. As they
are found beyond the three-mile zone, they are subjects for
international study and regulation. The same is true of all
the important fisheries, such as the cod, halibut, herring, sal-
mon, tuna and many others.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE LE CONTE MEMORIAL
LECTURES IN THE YOSE-
MITE VALLEY

JOSEPH LE CONTE, one of the
most distinguished of American
naturalists, for thirty years pro-
fessor in the University of Cali-
fornia, died in the Yosemite Val-
ley, and the Sierra Club erected
there a memorial lodge in his honor.
The University of California has
now arranged to give each year at
the lodge a series of lectures, to be
known as the Le Conte Memorial
Lectures, and the first course has
been completed.

The area in front of the memorial
lodge proved an admirable setting.
The lectures were given in the early
twilight hour, from 7:30 to 8:30,
when the sunset made the whole
valley radiant. It is estimated that

mae 2

oo Se e el ual

THE Lb

the average attendance at the lec-
tures was fully one tenth of the
large visitant population of Yose-
mite this year. It was about 275
people, with the exception of Dr.
Bade’s address on “John Muir’s
Services to the Nation,” which was
heard by fully 1,500. The speakers
are all men of recognized standing
in their fields. Each gave a series
of three lectures, making twelve
lectures in all.

Dr. Willis L. Jepson, the opening
lecturer, gave three addresses:
“Some Flowers of the Yosemite,”
“The Biology of the Chaparral”
and “The Ancestry of the Pines
and Sequoias in the Yosemite.”

“John Muir, Nature and Yose-
mite ’”’ constituted the general topic
of the three lectures by Dr. William
Frederic Bade, the literary executor

CONTE MEMORIAL LODGE.

284

of John Muir.
he gave an account of the life of
Muir, and a description of the meth-
ods of thought and study whereby
he came to possess an intimate
knowledge of the Yosemite and the
whole Sierra region. Dr. Bade’s
lecture, “John Muir’s Services to
the Nation,” constituted the oration
of the day at a Fourth of July cele-
bration. He told how Muir had
toiled for the establishment of na-
tional parks, and gave an account
of his cooperation with Theodore
Roosevelt in attaining that end.

The next series of lectures was
delivered by Francois E. Matthes,
geologist of the United States Geo-
logical Survey. Mr. Matthes’
knowledge of the Yosemite area is
particularly complete, owing to the
fact that he has been making care-
ful studies of that region for nearly
sixteen years. He is the author of
the most authentic map of the Sierra
region which includes the Yosemite.
In his first address, “The Origin
of the Yosemite Valley,” aided by
stereopticon views, he gave a com-
plete account of the forces which
created the Sierra range and showed
how the tilting of the Sierra fault
had accelerated the fall of the rivers
down their western slope. Draw-
ing his deductions from the “ hang-
ing valleys” from which the great
waterfalls of the Yosemite plunge,
he worked out the history of those
processes of nature whereby for
ages the valley was carved—first of
all by the Merced River, and later
in glacial times by the passing of
the great ice floods.

His second was delivered at Gla-
cier Point at an elevation of over
seven thousand feet above sea level.
Despite the difficulty of access to
the place where the lecture was
given, upwards of three hundred
people climbed to Glacier Point to
hear him. Standing on a rock over-
looking the entire valley, Mr. Mat-

In his first address |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

thes showed how, fifty to one hun-
dred thousand years ago, the great
glaciers swept over the western
slope of the Sierra and carved the
valleys. The concluding geological
lecture was on “ The Origin of the
Granite Domes of Yosemite.”

The final series in the course,
“The Indian Tribes and Folk Lore
of the Sierra,” was by Dr. A. L.
Kroeber, professor of anthropology.
In his first lecture he gave an ac-
count of the various tribes of In-
dians of California. The second ad-
dress, ‘The Indians of Yosemite,”
was devoted to those tribes, Tenayas
and Monos, which have for many
generations made the Yosemite area
their home. In his third lecture he
gave an interesting discussion of
the Indian legends and folk tales
that haunt the Yosemite, reciting a
number of them for the benefit of
his hearers.

THE DIRECTORSHIP OF THE
BRITISH NATURAL HISTORY
MUSEUM
Dr. SIDNEY FREDERICK HARMER,
since 1907 keeper of zoology, has
been elected director of the natural
history departments of the British
Museum. Dr. Harmer was born in
1862 and received his academic de-
grees at London and Cambridge. At
Cambridge he became fellow of
King’s College, lecturer in zoology
and superintendent of the univer-
sity museum of zoology. With Dr.
A. E. Shipley, master of Christ’s
College and now vice-chancellor of
the university, he edited the Cam-
bridge Natural History. He is an
authority on invertebrate zoology,
especially on the polyzoa, and on
the natural history and conservation

of sea animals.

The directorship of the British
Natural History Museum thus main-
tains the traditions set by Sir Rich-
ard Owen, Sir William Flower,
Sir Ray Lankester, Sir Lazarus

Dr. SIDNEY FREDERICK HARMER,
Director of the British Natural History Museum.

286
Fletcher, even though their names
may not be a series ascending in
scientific distinction. The trustees
had, however, planned to elect as
director an executive officer of the
museum without scientific qualifica-
tion, passing over Dr. A. Smith
Woodward, Dr. Harmer and other

scientific men of the institution and |

of the country. They were pre-
vented from doing so by vigorous
protests from scientific men, a large
number of leaders having, for ex-
ample, signed a letter in which they
said that to appoint a staff officer
instead of a man of scientific stand-
ing would be “an affront to scien-
tific men and of grave detriment to
science.”

The electing trustees of the Brit-
ish Museum are the Lord Chancel-
lor, the Archbishop of Canterbury,
and the Speaker of the House of
Commons, and it is perhaps not sur-
prising if they do not have expert
qualifications for the conduct of a
scientific institution. An English
journal—The Naturalist—remarks:
“In the old days when all our na-
tional collections were housed at
Bloomsbury, and books and mum-
mies were the chief attraction, a
Chancellor, an Archbishop and a
Speaker may have been a suitable
tribunal. But science has made
leaps and has bounded away to
South Kensington since then, and
the present government should see
to it that the appointment of the
director of the Natural History
Museum is in the hands of men
capable of judging the requirements
of the post, instead of, as in the
present case, attempting to give the
honor to the person who salaams
to them on the few occasions upon
which they meet, and who has the
privilege of recording the Great
Words which issue from their Great
Mouths.”

It might be well if we should learn
from the English situation, for we
have a National Museum, which is

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

subsidiary to the Smithsonian In-
stitution, whose regents are not sci-
entific men. It now has a magnifi-
cent building and good collections;
excellent scientific work is accom-
plished; but it has no director. Dr.
G. Brown Goode, who was in charge
as assistant secretary of the Smith-
sonian Institution, was an admirable
museum administrator and he was
worthily succeeded by the late Dr.
Richard Rathbun. But there seems
to be no movement to place the mu-
seum in control of a director emi-
nent in science.

USE OF THE GEOPHONE BY
THE BUREAU OF MINES

THE geophone, a listening instru-
ment invented by the French dur-
ing the war to detect enemy sapping
ond underground mining operations
and for the location of enemy artil-
lery, is now being used by the Bu-
reau of Mines, Department of the
Interior, as a possible aid in loca-
ting miners who have been entombed
after a disaster. The instrument
was developed by the United States
| engineers during the war and is now
used by the bureau according to
plans drawn by them.

Alan Leighton, assistant chemist
of the bureau, who now has charge
of these investigations, reports that
the instrument, though small, is es-
sentially a seismograph, since it
works on the same principle as the
ponderous apparatus with which
earthquake tremors are _ recorded.
It consists of an iron ring about
three and a half inches in diameter,
within the center of which is sus-
pended a lead disk which is fastened
by a single bolt through two mica
dises, one of which covers the top
and the other the bottom of the
ring. There then are two brass cap
pieces, the top one having an open-
ing in its center to which is fast-
ened a rubber tube, leading to a
stethoscopic ear piece.

We then have really nothing but

oq} 7B potp svy OUM COS] ooutsS vuoal? JO AJIS MOAT) oq) 10 {F0[00Z JO JAOSsojord

rf OAG-AVYS

‘TaMOUVE, HOMINIGT, &SNugy

a7 e)
288

a lead weight
two mica dises cutting across a
small air-tight box. If the instru-
ment is placed on the ground and
any one is pounding or digging in
the vicinity, energy is transmitted
as wave motion to the earth, and

suspended

the earth-waves shake the geophone
The lead weight, on account
of its mass and because it is sus-
pended between the mica remains
comparatively motionless. There
then is produced a relative motion
between the instrument case and
the lead weight. The result is that
a compression and rarefaction
the air in the
place.
ing to the stethoscopie ear piece is
connected with this space in the
geophone, this rarefaction and com-
pression is carried to the ear drum.
Usually two instruments are used,
one for each ear.

When the two instruments are
used, it has been found that the
sound is apparently louder from
the instrument nearer the source of
the sound. It is evident then that
by moving the instruments properly
a point can be found when the sound
will be of the same apparent in-
tensity in both ears. The direction
of the sound is then on a perpen-
dicular to the line connecting the
centers of the two _ instruments
either in front of or behind the ob-
server. Further observation will
show which side. Direction is quite
accurately determined in this way.

case.

The sound is not actually louder in,

one ear than in the other, but the
ear is capable of distinguishing the
difference in time at which the sound
arrives in the two instruments.
During the period of the war, en-
gineers of the Mining Division of
the Bureau of Mines were engaged
in determining the distance that
different mining’ machines could be
heard through the clay, shale, coal
and the mine cover. Measurements

between |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

were made also of the energy re-
quired in blows that they be heard
definite distances through clay, shale
and coal, as well as the distances at
which the shock waves resulting
from the discharge of various ex-
plosives could be heard. A_ brief
investigation of the factors influ-
encing the transfer of energy from
a mining tool to the clay and coal
was also made in order that recom-
mendations could be made as to the
type of mining machine which could
be used to accomplish the most work
with the least noise.

of |
instrument takes |
Since the rubber tube lead- |

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Emil Fischer, professor of chem-
istry in the University of Berlin,
.and Adrian J. Brown, professor of
the fermentation industries at the

_University of Birmingham.

| Dr. JOHN CAMPBELL MERRIAM,
/professor of paleontology and _ his-
| torical geology in the University of
California, who has been acting
| chairman of the National Council
of Research, was elected president
of the Pacific Division of the Ameri-
can Association for the Advance-
ment of Science at the Pasadena
meeting.—On the occasion of the
seventieth birthday of Sir William
Osler, regius professor at Oxford
University and previously professor
in the Johns Hopkins University,
which occurred on July 12, he was
presented with a collection of essays
contributed by about one hundred

of his pupils and colleagues.

GEORGE EASTMAN, head of the
Eastman Kodak Company, has given
the sum of $3,500,000 for the estab-
lishment of a school of music in
connection with the University of
Rochester. The school will aim to
aid the development of an apprecia-
tion of the highest type of motion
pictures as an ally of the highest
'type of music.

PEE SCLENTIFIC
heOEN TAL Y

OCTOBER, 1919

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION '

By Professor JAMES HENRY BREASTED

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
FROM THE OLD STONE AGE TO THE DAWN OF CIVILIZATION

f.

INNAXUS was the first natural scientist to find a place for
man in the natural system. There is an enormously long

stage in the career of man when the study of him is obviously
the task of the natural scientist. Much of the work of the
anthropologist and psychologist is properly classed as natural
science. At a certain stage in the development of man, how-
ever, we begin to call the study of him and his works archeol-
ogy, history, philology, art and literature—lines of study which
we sharply differentiate from natural science. I have often
wondered what there is unnatural about man. If it could be
demonstrated that the pterodactyl was gregarious, built towns,
made pottery, carried on industry and commerce, and left be-
hind written records, I fancy that we should still call the study
of him paleontology and not divorce it from natural science.

It has been a source of great gratification to the writer that
in the William Ellery Hale lectures on Evolution, the career of
man has been regarded as a part of the course of nature. The
protoplasm is indeed a long way from the idea of liberty and the
chimpanzee may antedate by millions of years the conception of
social justice, but the transition from the stage of biological to
that of social processes is a gradual one, even though we readily
recognize that man has finally risen to many qualities and ideas
which transcend matter and can not be placed under the micro-
scope or weighed in the chemist’s balances.

1 Delivered before the National Academy of Sciences in Washington,
D. C., April 28 and 29, 1919, as the seventh series of lectures on the Wil-
liam Ellery Hale Foundation.

VOL vir.—19.

290 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

L

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Fic. 1. DIAGRAM OF THER EUROPEAN GLACIAL AGE.

EU ROPE
areas

The archeologist depends on stratification just as the geolo-
gist does. He dates his strata not only by superposition, but
also by the artifacts contained in them, precisely as the geolo-
gist dates his strata by the fossils they contain. As we all
know, the prehistoric archeologist and the geologist work side
by side, and each gladly accepts the other’s results. This asso-
ciation brings us orientalists into intimate relations with nat-
ural science, for we carry on the work of research in the Near
Orient, having, on the one hand, early prehistoric man preced-
ing ancient Oriental civilization, and, on the other hand, historic
Europe following the ancient Orient. The early Oriental civili-
zations thus occupy a place between the remote savagery of
prehistoric Europe and the civilized career of historic Europe
beginning in Greece and Italy.

My distinguished predecessors have carried the progressive
development of matter through the origins of life and its evolu-
tion to ever higher forms, and have thus finally reached the
early stages of the first implement-fashioning creature, which
we call man. He has been followed by means of the trail of
stone implements which he began to leave behind him, through
the successive advances and retreats of the ice in the glacial
epoch, oscillating like the pendulum of a vast geological clock,
and thus measuring for us in large and still unprecise periods
the several hundred thousand years of the discernible human
career.

In the long struggle with the hostile forces of nature about
him, the savage European hunter of the Paleolithic Age had
slowly advanced through successive improvements of his
weapons and tools of stone, bone, horn, ivory and wood, until
the final retreat of the ice some seven or eight thousand years
before the Christian era (Fig. 1). In spite of the remarkable
progress which he had made and his surprising achievements
in art, as illustrated in the wonderful cave paintings of southern
France and northern Spain, it is evident that his general prog-
ress had been retarded as contrasted with the development of

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 291

the hunters of the Paleolithic Age on the south side of the
Mediterranean. It is a natural conclusion that the retarding
force was the recurring cold and ice by which Europe was so
long beset, while the south side of the Mediterranean was en-
joying far more genial conditions. It will therefore be neces-
sary for us to investigate what was going on in northern Africa,
long before the last glaciation of Europe had retreated. The
presence of the great African mammals in glacial Europe, like
the southern elephant (Hlephas meridionalis) whose bones are
found on the high terraces of the Seine and the Eure ninety
feet above the present river level, demonstrates the connection
of Europe with Africa in that distant age. Both at Gibraltar
and through Sicily the great European peninsulas of the west-
ern Mediterranean were united with Africa by land (Fig. 2).
Just as the wild creatures crossed these land bridges from
Africa to Europe and back again, so must the men who hunted
them have done. The dispersion of the art of chipping flint
implements throughout the contiguous areas of the two conti-
nents was a matter of course. Let it be clearly stated, however,
that this unquestionable fact does not carry with it the conclu-

Fic. 2. Map or INTER-GLACIAL Evuropr. (After Geikie.) Showing landbridges be-
tween western Europe and Africa.

292 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sion that the stages of prehistoric culture on both sides of the
Mediterranean necessarily kept even pace with each other, and
were therefore always contemporaneous. This we know was
not true as between North and South America; neither was
it true of prehistoric Africa and Europe. When the European
Stone Age hunters received metal in the AYgean area about
3000 B.c., it was a thousand years before it had crossed Europe
to Scandinavia and the British Isles. To speak of Mousterian
flints found in Siberia as necessarily contemporary with those
of France, is as absurd as to make Verestchagin, the Russian
painter, contemporary with Titian.

The existence of North African man in European glacial
times has been clearly demonstrated. The flint implements
which he wrought have been found, still lying in strata of
quaternary age in Algiers. In the caves of Gafsa in Tunis
Schweinfurth has also found flints of Paleolithic type, but not
in stratifications or with a fauna which demonstrates their un-
questionable Paleolithic age.* In the same region, furthermore,
Schweinfurth has found artifacts of even pre-Chellean types,
lying in deposits of coarse conglomerate (nagelfluh or “ pou-
dingue’”’ Fr.), which the discoverer concludes were of early
quaternary date. He found 411 pieces, some of which he classi-
fies as Eoliths and everything else as Chellean or pre-Chellean.?

These early Stone Age hunters of North Africa have left
more than their stone implements to tell of their existence along
the southern shores of the Mediterranean. In Algiers they
carved in the natural rock faces rude drawings of the animals
they were daily pursuing. One of these prehistoric drawings
(Fig. 3) shows us the Bubalus antiquus, or ancient buffalo, a
creature presumably of quaternary age in this region. This
again demonstrates the presence of Paleolithic hunters in North
Africa.’

It is evident that the Sahara desert during the age repre-
sented by such remains, must have been a fertile region, with
productive soil and plentiful precipitation. This continued
until the latter part of the glacial epoch; but in the last glacia-
tion of Europe the climate along the Nile at least, was nearer
that of to-day. Graffiti and Neolithic remains in the western

*See Boule, L’Anthropologie, 13, 1902, pp. 109-110, against Forbes,
Bull. Liverpool Mus., III., 1901, No. 2.

3 Schweinfurth, Zeitschr. f. Ethn., 39, 1907, pp. 899-915.

4 Schweinfurth, ibid., 39, 1907, pp. 137-181.

> Pomel, L’Anthropologie, XI., also Obermaier, “ Mensch der Vorzeit,”
p. 168.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 293

Sahara would indicate its habitability, however, in time rela-
tively recent, as the Neolithic of this region seems to have con-
tinued almost down to modern times.® Gautier concludes that
the changes here have not been due to alteration of the climate
during the last two thousand years, but to desiccation caused
by dunes, cutting off the Sudan from the Sahara, and resulting
in its absorption by the Berbers from the north.

The probabilities certainly are that fertile conditions in the
Sahara during the major portion of the Pleistocene permitted
the distribution of the Paleolithic hunters from Algiers to the

SaaS

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Aah)
. see
- ~
— at
S ? 5 ~
EBS
= af
ead
i ier
eg Vt AES
reey sees]
at . - ‘ +) ee
ae
Ye
>t rd
ote
ny
:
4a

Fic. 38. RocK GRAFFITO OF THE WILD BurraLo (Bubalus Antiquus) IN ALGIERS.
Carved by prehistoric hunters in the Paleolithic Age. (After Por.)

Nile. But the Nile of that period offers a geological history
which we must have in mind, because it went hand in hand with
the career of man in northeastern Africa.

During or just before the formation of the lower levels of
the Upper Pliocene, while the Mediterranean coast line was at
the site of later Cairo, two extensive fractures occurred, vary-
ing from 7 to 24 km. apart. They extended southward from
the coast some four hundred miles to the vicinity of Keneh,
forming what is called a “‘block fault” in the earth’s crust.
As the block between the fractures sank it formed a great rift

6K. F. Gautier, L’Anthropologie, 18 (1907), pp. 37-68, 314-832.

294 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

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abe te
a Po Bae ON BTS Bs 2 eee
Fic. 4. Map OF THE EGYPTIAN RIFT IN PLIOCENE-PLEISTOCENE TIMES. (After

Blanckenhorn. )

or trench, stretching from the sea shore at the site of modern
Cairo in latitude 30° N., to Keneh in latitude 26° 7’ N. (Fig. 4).
The entire rift is in the Eocene limestone. Other more local
faults of varying origin carried the rift above Thebes, south of
which (at Gebelen) it narrows. Measured along its bends the
entire trench is almost 450 miles long. (Railway distance from
Cairo to Luxor is 416 miles, and Gebelen is over 17 miles above
Luxor.)

As Blanckenhorn, to whom we chiefly owe these facts, has
shown,’ the rift was open to the sea, which entered and pene-
trated as far south as Dahaibe, then about ninety miles from
the sea shore. Here must have been for a time the earliest
mouth of the Nile. But this was much later. The intrusion of
the sea fell in the transition from the upper Middle Pliocene to

7 Blanckenhorn, “Geschichte des Nil-Stroms,” in Zeitschrift der Ge-
sell. fiir Erdkunde, 1902, pp. 694-722 and 753-762.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 295

the lower Upper Pliocene. It was contemporaneous with the
beginning of increased precipitation in the Upper Pliocene, fol-
lowed by the rainy transition period from the Pliocene to the
Pleistocene, which Hull has called the Pluvial Period.

The narrow connection of the new Egyptian fjord with the
sea was early largely blocked and the rapidly gathering fresh
water of the east and northeast African drainage soon filled the
rift and formed a large lake or series of lakes stretching from
the region of Thebes to the sea. Into this lake or lakes plentiful
streams flowed from east and west, carrying into the great
trench extensive masses of conglomerates, gravels, marls, lime-
stones, etc., which covered the bottom of the trench, and formed
also in massive terraces of alternating limestone and indurated
gravel along the walls of the rift (Fig. 5).

The characteristic fossil contained in these deposits is the
lacustrine mollusc Melanopsis, the period of whose prevalence
in this region seems to correspond to the already climatically
cooled Upper Pliocene and Early Pleistocene especially of the
first glaciation in Europe. This is at least the current and
probable hypothesis. Accepting this probability, the earliest,
that is to say the lacustrine, terraces of the Egyptian trench be-
long to late Pliocene and early Pleistocene times.

In the immediately succeeding drier period, corresponding
to one of the early glacial periods (perhaps the first Inter-
Glacial), the Nile stream for the first time appeared in this
Egyptian rift. From this time on, river terraces were formed
along its banks, though in relatively limited extent. Two of
these river terraces can be discerned between the lacustrine
terrace above and the alluvium below. The higher river terrace
is from 6 to 30 m. (along its lower edge) above the level of the

PLIOCENE CHASM
7-24 km wide

Fic. 5. SCHEMATIC CROSS-SECTION OF THE EGYPTIAN RIFT.

296 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Aiiécehie PLE | STOCENE oR GLACIAL AGE &&%. GEOLOGICAL

FIRST GLACIAL SECOND GLACIAL THIRD GLACIAL FOURTH GLACIAL7O90 BC PR ESENT
(MINDEL) CRISS) Rey APP ROXINUTELN,
LJ (MINDEL -RISS) (RISS-WURM) S25 MODERN CLIMATE
Oo. ICE HEIDELBERG PALAEOLITHIC NEOLITHIC} Metal
4000-5000 MAN Maximum date Introduction of: arene
e) FEET LOWER 125000 to 7000 yearsBC. POTTERY cuthesstem
oOo THAN NOW PROBABLY NO HUMAN HANDIWORK Minimurn ‘date’ pomestic (AT tL Europe and
32,000 to 7,000 B.C ANIMALS JoHEEP | spreods wost
=) Coy MESH ape lal SS at) OOo, mits WINE | ward 3000t0
uJ AGRICULTURE WHEAT | 222° 8C

es
GROUND STONE postneusten

ore peand

\ TOOLS Taleian
EUROPE AN SAVAGERY EUROPEAN BARBARISM
Paw ewe En Omi Lule np miHnnl "CW NEORITHICRCOPPERmAG hase

EARLIEST

PLEUV 1 AL PER |© Di_mas LOWER BEGINNINGS | AGRICULTURE EAR EES T p< EXPAND

&. FOLLOWS RIVER OF NILE DOMESTIC EMERGENCE OF
GREAT PLATEAU-MANJINTER-PLUVIAL] UPPER EARLIEST

EGYPTIAN |PROBABLY SHRINKAGE | RIVER Re cateRs| DERRACE. | ALLUVIUM. | animaLs CIVILIZATION) STONE
RENCH |LIVINGALONG |OF LAKE -| (ARTIFACTS WRITING | laRcHITECTURE

CONVERTEDITEAICE PLATEAUMaN| TERRACE. [INTO VALLEY] CoO POTTERY INDUSTRIES] SCULPTURE

INTO LARGE LIVES ALONG | (COVERING | LEAVING IN BORINGS PAINTING

LAK ART) VEACTS Aavlcrs 3570 OVER RISE OF FIRST
eG abe LACUSTRINE| BEGINNINGS | CF PLATEAU- 80 FEET DEEP. GREAT STATE
DEPOSITS CHETAN GEE s). Jor EARLIEST | CULTURE). | TERRACE EARLIEST |EARLIEST SHIP-BUILDING

SETTLEMENTS | SETTLEMENTS COMMERCE

CONTAINING NILE ON LACUSTRINE] ON ALLUVIUM

O PROBABLE
ARTIFACTS- \ BED Mey
LJ CORRELATION * WITH EUROPE BARBARISé— evi iZAT (|
| EGYPTIAN “ SAVAGERY EGYPTIAN BARBARISM EGYPTIAN CIVILIZATION

PLUVIAL PERI OD|]sorpan |extensive PALAEOLITHIC NEOLITHIC COPPER AGE

LEAVAGE INTER- HIGHEST VALLEY LAVA STEPPE OR] CLIMATE AGRICULT! EMERGENCE OF
Se SERIES PLUVIAL LEVEL OF LAKE FLOWS HALF-DESERT] OF TODAY NEM ESTIG CIVILIZATION
TRENCHES OLDEST JORDAN CLIMATE STONE**BONE| ANIMALS IDATE OF INTRODUCTION
1. RED SEA | JORDAN | VALLEY RETREATS |SLIGHT r) ARTIFACTS IN | POTTERY OF METAL UNCERTAIN
WESTERN 2AKABA VALLE Y LAKE TO ABOUT |RISE OF BABYLONIAN
3JOR DAN LAKE PRESENT |DEAD SEA COMMERCIAL
? ORIES
AS lA i Se ee UP BORE TNE PALESTINE |BONES OF GLACIAL IBRICK ARCHITECTURE
JORDAN LAVA INVADES AND ALONG GEM-CUTTING
VALLEY VALLEYS UPPER BEGINNING OF
LAKE EUPHRATES) BABYLONIAN ALLUVIUM
A NIA
WESTERN ASIATIC SAVAGERY BARBARISM RT TGNG
Fic. 6. DIAGRAM SHOWING ATTEMPTED CORRELATION OF GLACIAL EUROPE AND EGYPT.

alluvium ; the lower is only 9 to 10 m. above the alluvium. The
lower of the two is not everywhere observable or distinguish-
able, for like the typical Nile alluvium it also is made up of Nile
mud, sand and fine gravel, without any coarse rubble, and it
emerges aS a more or less wide, gentle slope along the edge of
the cultivated land, and is therefore not sharply distinguished
from the latter.

The fauna of these Pleistocene deposits is confined as a rule
to shells of fresh-water molluscs still living in the Nile. To
these may be added only one extinct variety, the Unio Schwein-
furtht (Martens). Very few remains of mammals have been
found in deposits of this age, but they include buffalo horns and
teeth of the hippo and elephant, while the marly lake deposits
of the Fayum have yielded teeth, hoofs and leg bones of the
horse. With these was also found the mandible of a man, later
unfortunately lost. A comparison of this fauna with that of
Syria has led Blanckenhorn to the conjecture, if not to the con-
clusion that in these southern lands, especially Egypt, there did
not develop a pleistocene fauna analogous to that of glacial
EKurope—as if the climatic conditions, at least in the later
Pleistocene, the time of prehistoric man, were not so different
from those of to-day as in glaciated Europe.

After the formation of the two river terraces shown in the

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 297

cross section (Fig. 5), the Nile began laying down the present
alluvial floor of the valley. For the deposit of this deep stratum
of alluvium, varying from some thirty feet in depth at Thebes
to over a hundred or even over a hundred and thirty feet in the
Delta, it is evident that the relatively brief period since the re-
treat of the ice in Europe was quite insufficient. Blanckenhorn
estimates that the lower half of the clayey sands and sandy
clays forming so much of the Nile alluvium was deposited dur-
ing the last glacial period of Europe.

To summarize, it will be seen that the geology of the Nile
valley, in so far as it bears on the age of man there, displays
four chief periods: I., The Lacustrine Terraces (— Pliocene and
First Glacial?) ; Il., The Upper River Terrace (—Second Gla-
cial?) ; III., The Lower River Terrace (—Third Glacial?) ; IV.,
The Alluvium, Lower (—Fourth Glacial), Upper (= Post-
Glacial ?).

In view of the probability that the Lacustrine (Melanopsis)
stage reaches over into the First Glacial, and the certainty that
the lower Alluvium reaches back into the Fourth or Last Glacial
it is tempting to make the Second and Third Glacial correspond
respectively to the two River Terraces (Fig. 6). The four gla-
cial ages would then be parallel with the four main periods
disclosed by the Nile deposits. These geological parallels are in
no sense vital to this presentation, however, with the exception
of the conclusion, clearly demonstrated by Blanckenhorn, that

Fig. 7. THr NILE VALLEY ALLUVIUM AT SItvT, seen from one ot the lower river
terraces.

298 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fig. 8. THE NILE VALLEY ALLUVIUM aT Siur, with River TERRACE IN FOREGROUND.
(Photograph by Underwood & Underwood.)

the Lower Alluvium corresponds to the European Fourth
Glacial.

Turning now to the Nile valley as we find it to-day, the view
of Siut in Fig. 7 furnishes a characteristic prospect across the
black alluvial floor of the Nile valley from the distant cliffs in
the east, to the western cliffs from which the photograph is
taken. As we step back up the slope, we include within the
range of the camera one of the lower river terraces seen in the
foreground of Fig. 8. Again the cliffs near Der el-Bahri at
Thebes display characteristic formations of the Lacustrine Ter-
races, above those of the river (Fig. 10).

These terraces are clearly correlated in a geological map of
the western cliffs of Thebes by Schweinfurth (Fig. 9). The
band below shows the extent of the cultivated land, the allu-
vium; the next band above it represents the river terrace, pre-
sumably the upper, the lower disappearing at this place, while
the uppermost band shows the situation of the lacustrine ter-
races. According to Blanckenhorn, it will be recalled, these
lacustrine deposits, characterized by the fossil mollusc Melan-
opsis, were laid down in late Pliocene-early Pleistocene times;
the upper levels therefore may belong in the First Glacial

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 299

Period of Europe. At that time the Sahara plateau was habi-
table, and discoveries of Schweinfurth would indicate that prob-
ably as early as the European First Glacial Period, men able to
produce flint implements lived along the margin of the cliffs,
above the lake here at Thebes.

If Schweinfurth is correct the rude artifacts produced by
these men were carried by the drainage from the shores of their
plateau dwellings into the lake, where they are now embedded
deep in the lacustrine terraces below the brow of the cliffs. He

/ -
fg fal fats
Trraps) ‘Seton 4% Lp Sar wl linha
= 47
Y Fok 2

y af eg
" Qurna tn, ;

I tohech EN
"jee

2s Se

Fic. 9 GEOLOGICAL MAP OF WESTERN THEBES. (By Schweinfurth.)

500 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 10. T'HE LACUSTRINE TERRACES NEAR DER EL-BAHRI ON THE WEST SIDE AT
THEBES. The levels containing artifacts are marked with a cross.
(After Schweinturth. )

has found them below several alternate strata of limestone and
indurated gravel, which have collected some fifty feet or more
above the artifacts (Fig. 10).

One form believed by Schweinfurth to have been produced
by the hand of man displays the familiar “‘ bulb of percussion ”’ ;
while the edges show evidences of secondary flaking (Fig. 11).
The fact that this region was never visited by the ice, makes it
more probable that such flints were produced by man, in the
absence of the grinding, the pressure and other forces of the
ice, to which the European “ eoliths” were subjected.

However this may be, it is certain that far back in the
European Glacial Age the North African plateau was inhabited
as we have already seen. Inhospitable as the stretches of the
desert along the Nile valley now look, they were once the home
of man. These early plateau hunters have left traces of their
presence other than their flint weapons. In 1906 a native at
Abu Simbel in northern Nubia assured me that he could take
me out into the Sahara to an unknown temple of which so many
vague reports had reached archeologists that it had long been
known to us as “the lost temple.’ Several hours march from
the Nile, far out in the western desert, we did indeed find it

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 301

(Fig. 12). It proved to be a natural rock formation, with a
door wrought also by nature, and alongside the door the records
which the natives had reported as inscriptions proved interest-
ing enough. Here were carved two boats, two giraffes, two
ostriches and a number of smaller animals. The giraffe has
been extinct in Egypt from very remote times, and it is possible
that the hunters of Pleistocene Age have left these records in
the Sahara.

Just above Thebes along the crest of the cliffs behind the
Kings’ Tombs (Fig. 14), these early hunters had a number of
workshops, and here worked flints are still scattered so plenti-
fully that there are stretches kilometers long, where one lit-
erally walks on artifacts, and it is difficult to find a piece of
flint produced by nature. The date of artifacts found thus
lying on the surface is not to be determined by the shape, work-
manship and type alone. Fortunately these same artifacts may
also be stratigraphically dated in the immediate vicinity.

A
WAAAY OY

i

\\

Pig. 11. HUMAN ARTIFACT FOUND WITH MANY OTHERS BY SCHWEINFURTH IN THE
LACUSTRINE TERRACES OF THE NILE Rirr. They lay some fifty feet below
the surface, at the point marked with a cross in Fig. 10,

302 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 12. THE SO-CALLED LOST TEMPLE BEHIND ABU SIMBEL IN LOWER NUBIA.

As the great Egyptian lake shrank and the earliest Nile
current began to move northward in the old bed of the lake, the
drainage of the latter part of the Pluvial Period carried large
masses of the neighboring rock rubbish into the valley, and

Fic. 13. THE HEIGHTS OF THE SAHARA PLATEAU. ABOVE THEBES. BPxtensive flint
workshops of Quarternary age have been found lying on the surface of the plateau.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 3038

these materials helped to form the Upper River Terrace. They
carried down with them numbers of the flint artifacts already
lying on the plateau, and these early works of man are now
found embedded in the conglomerate and indurated gravels of
the Upper River Terrace. They were first noticed by Gen. Pitt-
Rivers as far back as 1881, at a spot marked with a cross by
Schweinfurth on his map (Fig. 9) near the mouth of the wadi
called el-Wadiyén (‘the two wadis’’) north of Seti I’s Temple
of Kurna, on the road to the Kings’ Tombs.

Little attention was paid to Pitt-Rivers’ discovery ; but over
twenty years later Schweinfurth placed its correctness beyond

Fig. 14. RocK-HBWN TomMB CoURT KNOWN AS “Sarr EL-LEBEN.” In the con-
glomerate walls of this court artifacts carried down by the drainage in Pleistocene
times from the plateau above have been found. (Photograph by kindness of Winlock.)

all doubt. He found artifacts embedded in the strata of this
river terrace at Kurna all along the lower end of the Wadiyén,
and likewise in the neighboring large courts of the Egyptian
tombs here. These courts are some 75 m. square, open on one
side and with about twenty-five tomb doors cut in each of the
remaining three sides (Fig. 14).

The investigations of Winlock of the Metropolitan Museum
have made it extremely probable that these large courts and
their arrangements belong to the Eleventh Dynasty (2160-
2000 B.C.) ; that is to say they are over four thousand years old.
The entire court and the tombs the doors of which are visible in

B04 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fig. 15. River TERRACE ALONG THE NILE ar THEBES. Here the plateau hun-
ters lived when they shifted from the plateau down into the Nile Rift. (Photograph
by Underwood & Underwood.)

Fig. 14 were therefore excavated from a conglomerate or
“nagelfluh ” formation, hard enough for such excavation over
four thousand years ago. Here are thousands of square yards
of wall surface embedded in which large numbers of flint arti-
facts may be found. It requires considerable effort with cold
chisel and hammer to disengage these works of early man, thus
embedded in a late rock formation.

The materials of which this conglomerate is composed show
clearly that they came from the neighboring heights; and their
situation at the lower end of a wadi leading down from the
plateau leads to the same conclusion. Finally the artifacts con-
tained in the formation are of the same types and workmanship
as those found still lying on the plateau. The remains of man
found in this terrace belong therefore to the plateau culture,
and to a period of that culture long antedating the formation of
the terrace.

When the Theban river terrace containing these artifacts
was forming (compare Fig. 5), the earliest Nile was at least 15
to 20 meters (over 45-60 feet) aboveits present highest level. As
the river declined in volume, probably during the Second Inter-
Glacial of Europe (see Fig. 6), the plateau hunters began to

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 305

shift into the valley itself, and to occupy the stretches of terrace
on the river’s brink. Primeval forest alternated with marsh
and jungle along a raging flood of the vast river. Here on the
dry and exposed rubble heaps the plateau hunters took up their
dwellings. They gradually transferred their flint workshops to
the brow of the upper river terrace. Here their flint imple-
ments are still found lying on the surface (Fig. 15).

Their hearths and doubtless later their wattle huts were dis-
tributed along the river terrace not far from the cliffs behind;
for the vantage ground between the foot of the cliffs and the river
must have been scanty at first. It was natural that they should
scratch their hunting records on the rocks of the cliffs behind
their homes, and it is doubtless to this stage of human life in the
Nile valley that we owe many of the game animals pictured on
the rocks. At a somewhat later stage the reed floats which the
former plateau hunters had learned to make for crossing the
river along which they had now established their dwellings, were
displaced by primitive wooden boats, the earliest known. Of
these also, the hunters have carved rude pictures on the walls of
the Nile rift (Fig. 16). The great age of these cliff pictures is
interestingly shown by the fact that the areas cut away by the

Fic. 16. Curr Prcrure oF A PRIMITIVE NILE Hunter's RupE Woopen Boar.
The earliest wooden craft known, cut on the cliffs at el-Kab. (After Green in Pro-
ceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology, Vol. XXV.)

VOL. Vir.—20.

306 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ancient hunters in carving these figures are covered with a dense
blackish brown patina, the somber raiment worn by all rocks in
the desert and called by Walther “ desert varnish.” According
to Lucas’ it is due to oxides of iron and manganese dissolved out
of the stone by the rare rains and the dews, and changed on the
surface by the heat into ferric oxide and manganese dioxide,
which are insoluble and dark colored. The same conclusion was
earlier published by Lortet and Hugounenq’; but Linck, on the
contrary, maintains that the patina is due to a fine dust de-
posited by the winds, and adhering finally firmly to the surface,
and that it comes from without, not from within the stone.'”
However this may be, surfaces cut away in making hieroglyphic
inscriptions some 4,500 to 5,000 years ago, have in this long
interval gathered but slight traces of this desert varnish. We
must conclude therefore that its presence on the cut surfaces of
the prehistoric cliff pictures, if it does not demonstrate, is at
least in harmony with, a very remote date for the hunters who
wrought these earliest records in the Nile valley.

As the flint implements still lying on the surface show us,
these earliest Egyptian hunters were advancing to occupy more
and more of the valley, as the waters of the river receded.
When the Nile had finally sunk to its present bed, these pre-
historic Nile dwellers settled upon its shores. Often they must
have dwelt directly on the dry rubble heaps and stretches of
sand and clay, which once formed the bed of the Pliocene
Egyptian lake. Then the river began laying down the alluvial
floor which has now covered the remains of these prehistoric
settlements on the old lacustrine bed of the valley. There they
lie with thirty feet of alluvium over them, and there it will be
impossible ever to recover them.

Thus in the Fourth Glacial Period of Europe the Nile began
to deposit the fertile alluvial floor which now forms Egypt
(Fig. 7). As this floor gradually spread on each side of the
river, it greatly improved the conditions under which the Nile
dwellers lived, and while the hunters of Europe were contend-
ing with cold and ice, these men of northeastern Africa were
enjoying a mild climate, of unequaled salubrity, and likewise

8“ The Blackened Rocks of the Nile Cataracts,’ Survey Dept., Min-
istry of Finance, Cairo, 1905.

°“ Coloration noire des rochers formants les cataractes du Nil,’ Comp-
tes rendus, Acad. Sci., Tome 134, 1902, p. 109.

10 Linck, “ Ueber die dunklen Rinden der Gesteine der Wuesten.”

Jenaische Zeitschr. f. Naturwissensch., 35, 1900, pp. 329-336; quoted by
Schweinfurth in Zeitschr. f. Ethn., 35, 1903, p. 815.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 307

freedom from the formidable mammals which confronted the
European hunters.

Proof of the existence of these remote prehistoric settle-
ments on the lower alluvium is not wanting, although it has
thus far been found only in the general latitude of the southern
apex of the delta. From 1851 to 1854 L. Horner sank ninety-
five pits and borings down through the alluvium in this region."
“Tn a large majority of the excavations and borings, the sedi-

Fic. 17. ProsTrarr COLOSSAL PoRTRAIT OF RAMSES II. ar MEMPHIS.

ment was found to contain, at various depths and frequently
at the lowest, small fragments of burnt brick and of pottery.”
We know that burnt brick could not possibly have existed in
the days of the dwellers on the lower alluvium, and Horner’s
“burnt brick” must therefore have been simply larger frag-
ments of pottery. His shafts around the colossal statue of
Ramses II. at Memphis (Fig. 17) disclosed the lower courses
of the substructure supporting the statue. He also reached the
bottom of the substructure under the obelisk of Sesostris I.
11 See L. Horner, “ An Account of some Recent Researches near Cairo,
undertaken with the View of throwing Light upon the Geological History
of the Alluvial Land of Egypt,” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal
Society, Vol. 145, 1855, pp. 105-138, and Vol. 148, 1858, pp. 53-92.

308 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

at Heliopolis. His measurements enable us to compute the rate
at which the alluvium has accumulated in this latitude during
the last three or four thousand years. Since about 1950 B.c.
the rate of accumulation at the obelisk of Sesostris I. has been
about 3.90 inches per century, while at the Memphite colossus
of Ramses II., since the thirteenth century B.C., it has been
about 4.08 inches. There is a slight margin of uncertainty due
to our ignorance of the exact ancient level of the alluvium on
the substructures and our ignorance of the exact dates of the
monuments.'2 The borings in the latitude of the obelisk, but on
the opposite side of the Nile brought up pottery from depths as
great as fifty feet, or even nearly sixty feet. Using the rate
of accumulation for the latitude of the obelisk, we gain a date
of about 15,641 to 18,410 years before 1854 for the people of
the lower alluvium. That is, the indications are that these
earliest makers of pottery lived from 15,700 to 18,500 years ago.

Even larger figures than these would result from computa-
tions based on the discovery of pottery in the lower alluvium
at a depth of 22 meters at the southern apex of the delta by
Linant Bey; or at 27 meters on the Mahmudieh Canal by Abel.'*
On the Damietta branch in the delta Schweinfurth reports a
human skull found at a depth of 24 meters.'* It will be seen
that the results of computation based upon such facts as these
accord very well with Blanckenhorn’s demonstration that the
alluvium of Egypt began to be laid down long before the end
of the last European glacial period, some eight or ten thousand
years ago.

The earliest settlements on the old lake bottom and along
the gradually widening strip of earliest alluvium have been
deeply buried by the thick stratum of the upper alluvium which
now floors the valley and covers the whole space between the
river terraces (Fig. 18). There lies buried all that remains
of the story of an advance through the possession of pottery,
the gradually acquired ability to cultivate the wild grasses, the
ancestors of our own cultivated cereals, and also the conquest
of the wild life and its transformation into our domestic ani-
mals. The men who accomplished these things gradually re-
claimed the jungles of the Nile rift, and as the valley then en-
joyed but scanty rainfall, they began to cut the first trenches

12 Horner’s calculations of the rate are vitiated by the incorrect dates
for the monuments themselves current in his day.

15 DeMorgan, “ Recherches sur les Origines,” I., Paris, 1896, p. 19.

14 In Blanckenhorn, “ Geschichte des Nilstroms,” Zeitschr. der Gesell.
fiir Erdkunde, 1902, 761.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 509

for the irrigation of their little fields, the predecessors of the
irrigation canals which we survey from the top of the Great
Pyramid. Thus these earliest Nile dwellers slowly shifted from
the life of hunters to that of tillers of the soil and breeders of
flocks and herds.

As generation followed generation it was found to absorb
too much of the cultivable area to bury the dead in the alluvium.
They therefore began to make their cemeteries just outside of
the alluvium, along its margin. As the rising alluvium spread

Fic, 18. THE SURFACE OF THE PRESENT UPPER ALLUVIUM OF THE NILE VALLEY.
Now covering the remains of the earliest human settlements on the floor of the rift
or lake bottom,—as seen from the top of the Great Pyramid. (Photograph by Under-

wood & Underwood.)

out over the valley across the old lake bottom, these cemeteries
were covered up in their turn. There can be little doubt that
they stretch in a long wandering line, roughly parallel with the
edge of the alluvium which now covers them. They are not
below the limit of excavation—at least the later ones would be
within reach of the excavator, if they could be located. Exca-
vation would then be quite feasible. The problem of determ-
ining the location could be solved by boring, and this should
be begun on a large scale all along the margin of the allu-
vium, in the endeavor to find a cemetery. A single cemetery

510 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

thus discovered might reveal to us the pottery, stone imple-
ments, probably cultivated grain and even domestic animals as
well as the bones and skulls of an Egyptian community thou-
sands of years older than any predynastic community now
known to us. It would furnish us with a single mile post be-
tween the Egyptian whose stone implements we have found on
the river terraces, or whose pottery has been disclosed by the
borings already mentioned on the one hand, and on the other
the prehistoric Egyptian in possession of grain, domestic ani-
mals and metal as we find him in the earliest cemeteries now
known.

Fie. 19. A Group OF EARLY EGYPTIAN CEMETERIES ALONG THE RIVER TPRRACE.
Just outside the Margin of the Alluvium. (After Reisner, ‘‘ Naga el-Der,” pl. 20.)

The supposition that the cemeteries of the lower alluvial
period were placed along the margin of the alluvium and just
outside it, is based on good evidence. The earliest cemeteries
known occupy this very position (Fig. 19). When they were
first discovered about twenty-five years ago (1894-5), they
suddenly revealed to us a group of pre-dynastic Egyptian com-
munities, the earliest of which were already acquainted with
metal (copper), though it was not yet plentifully used for im-
plements. These cemeteries therefore represented an outgoing
Neolithic stage. A quarter of a century of excavation among

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION oll

these cemeteries has not yet carried us back into a pure Neolithic
stage of culture. Must we therefore suppose that there never
was any pure Neolithic culture in the Nile valley ?—that the un-
inhabited Nile rift was invaded by outsiders already acquainted
with metal ?—and that for this reason the cemeteries of a metal-
using people suddenly begin some centuries before 4000 B.c.?
If we answer this question in the affirmative, we must assume
the extinction or emigration of the pottery-makers disclosed by
the borings in the lower alluvium. A population which had
earlier maintained itself for many thousands of years along the
Egyptian rift from the days of the plateau hunters, through
their descent to the river terraces, until their occupancy of the
lower alluvium and the discovery of pottery—after this enor-
mously long occupation of the region—can not be conceived to
have disappeared from northeastern Africa, leaving it unin-
habited until some centuries before 4000 B.c.

It is consequently impossible to conclude that the pre-dynas-
tic cemeteries begin suddenly and abruptly, marking the reap-
pearance of man in the Nile rift after a period of thousands of
years without any human inhabitants there. We must conclude,
therefore, as we have done above, that the cemeteries which
might reveal the successive earlier stages of a pure Neolithic,
pre-metallic culture, bridging the present gap between the pot-
tery-makers of the lower alluvium and the earliest pre-dynastic
cemeteries now known, will be found under the present margins
of the alluvium. Indeed my friend Mr. A. M. Lythgoe, of the
Metropolitan Museum, while he expressed some reserve toward
the above hypothesis when I proposed it to him, at the same
time told me that he knew of one of the earlier cemeteries of
which one edge was covered by the alluvium.

While there is a gap in our knowledge between the men of
the lower alluvium revealed by the pottery of the borings and
the men of the cemetery burials, it is evident that during the
period represented by this gap the favored hunters of the Nile
valley, not being exposed to the ice and cold of glaciated Europe,
were able because of this sheltered situation in northeastern
Africa, to advance so fast that they left far behind their Stone
Age contemporaries all around the Mediterranean. This is
shown at once in the quality of their stone implements, which
had during this interval reached what we may call the Neolithic
stage. The successive earlier stages represented by the flint
artifacts at first left on the plateau and afterward on or em-
bedded in the river terraces, while they were probably earlier
than the Paleolithic implements of Europe, roughly correspond

(Sy)
a"
bo

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fie, 20. THREE STAGES OF FLINT IMPLEMENTS FROM NORTHEAST AFRICA. The
two below at right from the plateau; all three below are probably Paleolithic; the
“ripple-flaked ” knife above is from a pre-dynastic burial.

genetically to a Paleolithic stage of work (see lower artifacts
in Fig. 20). The progress in the gap preceding the earliest
cemeteries carried the Nile-dwellers forward to a Neolithic
stage represented even in the earliest burials by superb “ ripple-
flaked” knives (see Figs. 20, 21). Nothing illustrates the
superiority of the prehistoric Egyptian over all his contempo-
raries in other lands more conclusively than the remarkable pre-
cision, beauty and regularity of these flint knives. Nowhere in
the world, indeed, have Neolithic craftsmen ever produced any-
thing which can be compared with this work. This advance of
Egypt demonstrates an industrial superiority over Europe and
Asia beginning in the middle of the fifth millennium B.c., which
was maintained some four thousand years and was never lost
until the advance of Greek industry and commerce in the sixth
century B.C.

The other leading craft possessed by these men of the earli-
est cemeteries was that of making pottery (Fig. 22), as we

W

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION ole

might expect in view of the fact that their ancestors of the lower
alluvium were already producing it. It contained a large pro-
portion of Nile mud, and with its black-topped, red polished
forms, or red polished with white line decoration and brown or
black incised, this earliest cemetery ware is now well known.

It is impossible to offer here a complete inventory of the
content of these earliest known burials in the Nile valley, but we
may notice the presence of hand-bored stone vessels, face-paint
palettes made of slate, and often bearing traces of the face-paint
once ground upon them; besides many objects of ivory, like
“figures, combs, hair pins, bracelets, rings, vessels, harpoons,
etc.

The people who thus equipped their dead lived in small
settlements along the margin of the alluvium; for the presence
of the cemetery of course means that a community of living
people dwelt not far away in the cultivated area. A group of
wattle huts furnished their dwellings, and around these
stretched fields of barley, millet and wheat, with patches of flax,
while grazing near were flocks of sheep and goats, and herds of
long-horned cattle. Donkeys were already bearing the peas-
ant’s burdens from field to village, or village to market. The

Fic. 21. FLInr KNIFE, RIPPUE-FLAKED ON ONE SIDE AND GROUND ON THE

OTHER. From a burial in the pre-historic cemetery of Abadiyeh, Egypt. (Photo-
graph by Petrie.)

15 Reisner, “ Archeological Survey of Nubia,” Vol. I., p. 316.

ol4 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

great jungles and marshes which once stretched far along the
valley, the home of the tropical beasts so long pursued by the
plateau hunters and the men of the river terraces, had now been
reclaimed and drained and made fit for cultivation of vegetable
foods, or the pasturage of flocks and herds. A vast northeast
African game preserve had thus been transformed from a
jungle into the fertile home of the earliest cultivators of the soil
and breeders of cattle and
sheep anywhere known on
earth. The settlements of
these earliest agriculturists
and cattlebreeders stretched
far along the valley from
lower Nubia'® to the sea,
and now these vanished
generations, who originated
animal husbandry and do-
mesticated our food-grains
still sleep in these ceme-
teries, scattered along the
margin of the alluvium.
Their villages have disap-
peared, but these ceme-
teries, discovered only
Fic. 22. POTTERY EN AN UNS PREDY- twenty-five years ago, are
NASTIC BuriAL OF E«Gypr. (After photo- 4 s
graph by Reisner.) ; great repositories of the
life which once went on in
the vanished settlements.
The character of the food supply is revealed by an examina-
tion of the bodies from these cemeteries. The stomachs and ali-
mentary tracts of practically all such bodies from the very
earliest cemeteries contain husks of barley, while about ten per
cent. also contain millet (Panicum colonum) of a species no
longer cultivated. The husks of barley are much more difficult
to detach from the kernel than those of wheat or emmer, the
other prehistoric cultivated grains, and these latter, though
they did not carry their husks with them into the bread, may
also have been present in the bodies examined,'* but do not
happen to be represented by husks.
Emmer is a kind of split wheat (Triticum dicoccum), now
very little cultivated. The wild form called by Koernicke and

16 Reisner, “ Archeological Survey of Nubia,” Vol. I.
17 See remarks of Netolitzky, to whom these researches were entrusted
by Elliot Smith, in Hrozny, “ Getreide,” p. 178.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 315

Aaronsohn Triticum dicoccum dicoccoides (better by Cook, T.
hermonis) , was discovered by Aaronsohn in 1906 on and around
Mt. Hermon in north Palestine, and later as far south as Moab
in the trans-Jordan country. In 1910 it was also discovered in
western Persia on the Kermanshah road in the Zagros Moun-
tains. There is no doubt, according to Koernicke, that we must
recognize in wild emmer the ancestor of cultivated wheat. The

Fic. 23. Bopy oF A WOMAN FROM A PREDYNASTIC BURIAL IN Eoyrr. In the Field
Museum of Natural History, Chicago.

cultivated form of emmer differs but slightly from the wild
variety, and the development of our common varieties of wheat
(T. vulgare, turgidum, ete.) must have consumed a long period
of time, and required persistent practise of selection. Never-
theless, domestic wheat, with its long career of selective culti-
vation behind it, already appears in these earliest Egyptian
communities, along with the little altered cultivated emmer.

3d16 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It is interesting to notice that wild emmer is always found
growing together with wild barley (Hordeum spontaneum),
which is common in western Asia. The two were without doubt
used together as food by early man, while they were still in a
wild state, and domesticated together. Whether all this was
done in western Asia or northeastern Africa can be determined
with certainty, if ever, only when the botanical exploration of
the Near East, at present hardly begun, shall have been thor-
oughly completed.

It should be noted that the grain found in the bodies of the
prehistoric Egyptians and in the pottery jars accompanying
them, dating back of 4000 B.c., is the oldest cultivated grain
known to us, by over a thousand years. The nummulitic lime-
stone crevices in which Aaronsohn found wild emmer growing
in Palestine, are of course plentiful along the Nile, for such
stone forms much of the material out of which the Nile terraces
were built up. Here then, after using the wild barley and
emmer seeds as food for ages, these early Nile dwellers may
have begun to plant and cultivate them. It is only after ages of
selective cultivation, as shown by the wheat, that the situation
is revealed to us in these oldest cemeteries of the world. The
long process of selective cultivation which had produced wheat
before 4000 B.c., might therefore carry us back of 5000 B.c.
for the beginning of the cultivation of grain, and the rise of
agriculture.

It is also important to notice that such bodies as Fig. 23
often lie on a reed mat, with flaxen cord, and that some of them
are wrapped in linen already displaying a good deal of textile
skill. This is the oldest linen known to us, by an enormous
margin. The fields of flax which furnished this linen represent
a flax culture already very old, and descended probably from a
time when the Nile dwellers originated the cultivation of flax.

(To be continued.)

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 317

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM IN THE WAR

BEING SOME REFLECTIONS UPON THE RELATION OF
AN ORGANISM TO ITS ENVIRONMENT. iV

By Professor F. H. PIKE
THE DEPARTMENT OF PHYSIOLOGY OF COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY

THE ONSET OF THE GREAT WAR

The civilized world was startled in August, 1914, by the on-
slaught of the Teutonic hordes upon the people of Belgium and
France. We had heard vague rumors of the gathering of the
forces of war, and had heard the distant rattle of the saber at
times. Some gifted individuals with a vision of the future had
warned us, but we had not heard. We had seen the growth of
autocratic power, but we forgot the principles of government
worked out by our Anglo-Saxon ancestors, and we failed to ap-
preciate the menace to the world of autocratic power at the
head of a nation of millions of docile subjects. History was
supposed to be one of the agents which would aid man in his
process of muddling through by reminding him of past mistakes
and the dangers of some unfortunate past experiences. But
we heeded not the lessons of history, or did not know them.
Some there were who cared not for history, and some said that
the time spent on the study of history in our schools was wasted.
In one sense, unfortunately, these latter may have been right,
for few saw the approach of the storm before it broke. We
were dazzled by the glamor of high organization and efficiency
and we counted not the cost which must be paid for them. Like
a storm, which, eluding the meteorological service, sweeps in
from the sea, the war broke upon most of us without warning.
But if we look backward, there are few elements in the present
conflict that had not been the cause of uneasiness to statesmen
and philosophers in the centuries that went before. Mention
has already been made of the change in science, with the shift-
ing from the basis of science for its own sake to the basis of
work for practical ends. Some of us before the war noted the
decadence in freshness and originality in the scientific thought
of Germany, and were inclined to place its beginnings in the
last decade of the nineteenth century. The extravagance of the
imperialistic spirit, and the growing intimacy of the ruler and

318 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the leading diety were made plain to the world in general. All
these things had been noticed in Egypt and Babylon, and in
both empires, they presaged disaster. The reaction of free peo-
ples to the attempt to force such conditions upon the civilized
world was similar to the reactions exhibited by other free peo-
ples in other centuries when similar attempts were made to
force such conditions on them. Man’s internal organization
shapes his behavior, and changes in internal organization come
about only as the result of processes of evolution, most of which
require great periods of time for their completion. Only in
those countries whose peoples were decadent, or whose internal
organization was such that individuality was not a matter of
great importance, has the proper reaction failed to appear.
But, although the combination of Teutonic ruler and leading
deity loudly proclaimed the decadence of the peoples of the
earth, such decadence either did not exist, or was confined to
Germany. Judging from the lack of originality in Germany,
individuality, aside from that manifested by the ruling com-
bination, is not a matter of great consequence, and one would
really look for a certain form of decadence there. The usual
reaction occurred, and the Teutonic hordes were driven back.

But if we outside of Germany had not learned the lessons
of the past, we were no worse than the denizens of Unter den
Linden or Wilhelmstrasse, for assuredly they had not learned
either. The Bourbon kings are not the only ones who “learned
nothing and forgot nothing.’ The Hohenzollerns had not
learned that virile races resent attempts on the part of the
ruler and leading deity of an enemy country to suppress the
expression of their individuality. They had not forgotten the
traditions of the Egyptian and Babylonian kings. Their fail-
ure, either to learn or to forget, has brought disaster to them as
well as to us, and we most unselfishly hope that theirs will be
the greater disaster.

THE CHANGE IN GERMAN IDEALS

Strangely enough, one of the most beautiful expressions of
the biological ideal of life as I see it comes from the nation in
which, in the immediate past, the world has witnessed a re-
crudescence of monarchical absolutism as rigid as that of As-
syria or Babylonia. As Goethe stated it:

Wie das Gestirne,
Ohne Hast, ohne Rast,

Drehe sich jeder
Um die Eigene Last.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 319

But in Germany of the last decade there were few indeed
who could draw each one toward his own goal. The recent rul-
ing house of Prussia whose ancestors five hundred years age
were in “Hide and Hair” (perhaps because of his myopia
Treitschke was unable to see the cloven hoof, or because of his
deafness was unable to hear the clatter) had not only arrogated
to itself the privilege of regulating the destinies of all individ-
uals in the German Empire, but had also expressed the desire
to extend the same beneficent protection to the individuals of
the world in general. But the world in general has long as-
sumed this to be the prerogative of a Being of much greater
historical antiquity and, as we have been wont to believe, vastly
greater ability than any member of the Prussian ruling house
who has yet appeared. To meet this objection, the Kaiser has
announced that the welfare of the world has been expressly
delegated to his care while his immediate superior is looking
after the rest of the universe. To some of us, the credentials
which the Kaiser presented are in the same class with other
German state documents—mere scraps of paper. There is one
point on which the Kaiser may claim a biblical resemblance,—
“‘T came not to send peace upon earth but a sword.” One point
of resemblance is not, however, sufficient to establish the iden-
tity of the species of two individuals, and few other points of
resemblance occur to me at this moment. But granting all that
even the most charitably inclined person could grant, that the
Kaiser is not a sufficiently competent systematist to be sure of
his identification, and that this delegation of power really comes
from the German tribal deity, I still confess to lingering doubt
whether the Kaiser is strictly correct in his idea of the geo-
graphical location of the dwelling place of this tribal deity. To
my mind the geographical range assigned is incorrect, for it
partakes much less of the nature of a creature of light than a
being of darkness.

The mistake of the German war lords is as patent to the
biologist as to the politician or the statesman. If I interpret
the course of organic evolution correctly, it has made of man’s
brain, and through it his mind, a force of nature. There have
been occasional lightning flashes of genius in the course of his-
tory, and some cataclysms in the form of revolutions, but, on
the whole, its action has been more like that of other forces of
nature which first cut deep valleys in a newly elevated table-
land, then widen the valleys, disintegrate the rocks and reduce
them to fine particles, and transport them to other regions until
only the hills remain. Finally the hills are leveled and the

320 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

genial plain is open to view. So, century after century, man
has been making assaults upon the strongholds of absolutism
until, in all the civilized world, there is now, let us hope, not one
flagrant remnant. The holders of the castle would come forth
to dominate the earth, but their vision of a subjugated earth is
not to be realized. Not even their shining swords could cope
with a force of nature, but fools that they were, they knew not
what they would do.

THE PROBLEMS OF THE POST-BELLUM PERIOD

The problems arising out of the war are not settled by the
mere cessation of hostilities. The problems of reconstruction
demand solution, and upon the wisdom of their solution hangs
the destiny of millions of people for years to come. Some com-
ments on these may be permissible here.

I have written of the struggle of man against conventions
which repressed the expression of his individuality. Perhaps
some may infer that I would do away with all restraint, but
against such an inference I would utter a protest. There are
good biological reasons why all restraint should not be re-
moved, and one might argue that certain other forms of re-
straint should be added. In fact, I believe that some additional
restraint may be placed upon some tendencies in human nature.

The effort of the Kaiser and the war lords of Germany to
impose their will upon others may be regarded as a form of be-
havior shaped by their internal organization, and, hence, as an
effort to express their particular type of individuality. That
such efforts should be restrained, few outside of the Teutonic
empires or not of Teutonic ancestry will doubt. The war was
the immediate effort to restrain such tendencies, but wars do
not last forever, and the duration as well as the security of
peace will depend upon what means of restraint is adopted
after the war. A change in internal organization might be one
solution of the difficulty, but I am not sanguine that this can
be effected. The student of animal nutrition, regarding the
animal as a chemical mechanism, recognizes that, from the
dietary point of view, “the internal organization of an animal
is not accessible to improvement.’ Having settled this point,
he must do the best he can with whatever foodstuffs may be
available. Although, as I have emphasized in these pages, the
organization of the higher portions of man’s nervous system is
not as rigid as that of the chemical mechanisms of the body, I

10 Armsby, “ The Conservation of Food Energy,” Philadelphia, 1918,
D226:

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 321

still think it the part of wisdom not to assume that any great
changes in reaction will occur, but to assume that, because of an
internal organization which one can not greatly change, the re-
actions will not tend to change greatly."

Having made such an assumption, we should select such
remedies as will best suit the conditions. Anglo-Saxon races in
general have tried to permit the manifestation of individuality
on the part of the citizens of the state by limiting on the one
hand, the power of the state to interfere, and on the other hand,
providing lawful means of restraint for such persons as failed
to recognize or to heed the restraints imposed by reason. There
is no known way of preventing a ruler from becoming mad,
but ways may be devised for preventing him from exerting un-
limited and unchecked power during his madness. When a
whole race becomes mad, forcible restraint becomes necessary,
but, if left to itself, there is little chance that a whole race will
ever become mad. But if the race is to be trusted, the power
of a mad ruler to sway them must be curbed. One mad indi-
vidual can do but infinitesimal harm alone compared to the
harm he may do when he retains unchecked control of a whole
people in his madness. But happily the effort of the War Lord
of Potsdam to impose his own kind of convention upon the peo-
ples of the world has turned out to be simply another illustra-
tion of the vanity of human ambition.

Despite the comments of philosophers on the vanity of
human ambition, there is little fear, or hope, that it will fail
among the children of men. And the prudent children of men
will seek ways whereby the ambitious one may be prevented
from injuring his fellows. The establishment of democratic
forms of government has done much to remove the menace of
political and military ambition, but other forms of civil am-
bition have grown up since the days of the Magna Charta, the
control of which has not yet been satisfactorily worked out. It
would seem to a mere civilian that the same principles which
led our Anglo-Saxon ancestors to limit the power of one man

11JTf the conviction expressed in the text be well founded, then, broadly
speaking, as his neurones are, so the manis. In this sense Goethe’s words,

in the mouth of Mephistopheles, can be made to bear a new and almost
prophetic significance:

Du bist am Ende—was Du bist.
Setz Dir Perriicken auf Millionen Locken,
Setz Deinen Fuss auf ellenhohe Socken,
Du bleibst doch immer, was Du bist.
Barker, L. F., “The Nervous System and Its Constituent Neurones,” p.
221, New York, 1899.

VOL. vi1.—21.

322 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

or small group of men in a political way might be extended to
all other forms of human activity.

As a biologist, I would emphasize the vast possibilities for
evil of a trained or highly organized group of men in the higher
stages of society. Without organization and propaganda, ideas
make their way but slowly, and only after long discussion. The
glamor of organization and efficiency have appealed to us
strongly, and we have allowed the formation of great and
powerful organizations which are in control of machinery for
extensive and widespread propaganda. Many of them have
the avowed intention of forcing their own particular types of
convention upon great numbers of people. Many of them have
expressed the best intentions and have done no great harm as
yet. Others have already shown evidences of sinister designs.
Many were patterned after similar organizations with strong
centralized power. It will be well for us if we recognize these
possibilities early rather than late.

The German idea has permeated our universities more than
some of us would wish. German universities became a part of
the machinery for imperialistic propaganda, and a grateful
government has, in turn, established machinery for propaganda
for the use of the universities. We have been so harangued
and shrieked at by German men of science that, without ma-
chinery for propaganda, ideas originating in other countries or
ideas opposed to those made in Germany had small chance of
meeting with the calm, dispassionate consideration which scien-
tific questions demand, and without which opinion in science
becomes but little more than a mere manifestation of mob
psychology. Prussian ways of getting professorships, Prus-
sian methods of control once the professorship is obtained, and
the will to power rather than disinterested scholarship and
service, while by no means universal or universally commended,
have been too frequent in American universities to conduce to
perfect equanimity on the part of those who believe in demo-
cratic principles of merit and justice. It was with these things
in mind that a friend expressed in 1914 the hope that one result
of the war would be that our universities would become less
Prussianized.

Teutonic influence has extended still farther into academic
affairs in America. Impressed by the 42-centimeter Busy
Berthas and the potency of poisonous gases in warfare, which
have been the fruits of the application of German science to the
practical affairs of life, there has been much agitation in uni-
versity and some other educational circles for the extension of

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 323

practical education and the restriction or suppression of other
forms of academic activity. Practical knowledge is necessary
for some of the practical affairs of life, and no one would deny
its value. But the argument that we must do certain things
because they have been done in Germany leads one to inquire
whether the results will be the same here as in Germany. Until
some assurance is forthcoming on this point, I am not willing
to sacrifice any or all independent opinion of my own merely
for the sake of imitating Germany. And I would like further
assurance that study of a non-practical sort is without value to
the world in general. One might go even farther than this and
ask for assurance that work of a non-practical nature is actually
harmful to the world. For the scholar works out those things
which express his own individuality, and the attempt to restrict
such a means of expression is similar in its nature to other
attempts to impose restraint upon individuality by setting up
an arbitrary convention.

We have forgotten, however, some other things in Germany
when we focus our attention upon merely practical matters of
their educational system. Art has flourished in Germany in
times past and their galleries have been enriched by fair means
or foul by great works from other countries. Long ago Huxley
called attention to some of the defects of a purely “practical
education ”’ and it may be well to recall his words now, for I
believe that they are worthy of serious consideration to-day.

The mental power which will be of most importance in your daily life
will be the power of seeing things as they are without regard to authority;
and of drawing accurate general conclusions from particular facts. But
at school and at college you shall know of no source of truth but authority;
not exercise your reasoning faculty upon anything but deduction from
that which is laid down by authority.

You will have to weary your soul with work, and many a time eat
your bread in sorrow and in bitterness, and you shall not have learned to
take refuge in the great source of pleasure without alloy, the serene rest-
ing place for worn human nature—the world of art.

Practical matters or science or applied science have engaged
men’s attention in the days of the war, and there are some,
even many, who fear that the scholar who works not toward
practical ends alone will disappear in the process of reconstruc-
tion after the war. But idealism has survived in the world too
long to disappear now. For if, by any mischance, the scholar
should be driven from our universities and be supplanted by
“merely practical men, somewhere in the world he will find
refuge. We may, in the last extremity, go part way back to the
conditions of the scholar in Paris in the fifteenth century as
Victor Hugo describes them:

324 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The Ville contained the Halles, the City the Hotel Dieu, and the Uni-
versity the Pre aux Clercs. For offences committed by the students on
the left bank (of the Seine), in their pre aux Clercs, they were tried at
the Palace of Justice in the Island, and punished on the right bank at
Montfaucon, unless the rector, finding the University strong and the king
weak, chose to interfere; for it was the privilege of the scholars to be
hanged in their own quarters.2

There is small hope that all his former privileges will be
restored in their entirety unless liberal legislatures amend the
charters of our universities so as to allow the erection of their
own gallows, but somewhere or somehow the scholar will claim
and receive some of his ancient privileges even among the prac-
tical men of the day. Perhaps those universities which have
established schools of electrical engineering might substitute
the electric chair for the ancient gibbet. Garrets may again
come into style, and hermitages in the forest may again shelter
him from the elements, but the scholar will and must work.
But the value of idealism for the world is not yet passed. Surely
it is safer for the world that the pale student should spend his
time in deciphering the tattered fragments of a Greek palimp-
sest than that he spend his time in devising a new poison
wherewith to slay his fellow man. It is safer for the world that
an astronomer should spend his time calculating the motions of
a distant sun than that he should calculate the path of a pro-
jectile that will kill women in a church seventy miles away. It
is better that a man lose his life in vain searching for the pole
than that he save it in dreaming of “ Weltmacht oder Nieder-
gang,’ unless he achieves Niedergang. It is better for the
‘world that our children should see great works of art, or great
collections in museums than that they grow up on a diet of
blood and iron. It is better that one should penetrate to the
nethermost parts of the earth and brave the danger of beasts of
prey or disease-bearing insects than that he should dream of
feats of arms in a war of conquest. For high enterprise and
romance are not dead in the world and the history of science
itself is ‘“‘the history of an adventure.” But the scholar sets
not out on his adventure deliberately to slay.

While the idealist may dream of the day when restraint shall
no longer be necessary among the children of men, those who
pay attention to the facts of biology must recognize that re-
straint is still necessary. It is not within the province of the
biologist to impose this restraint. That task falls to the law-
maker, with whom the biologist has seldom maintained intimate

_ 12 Notre Dame,” Book III., Chap. II.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 325

personal relations. Yet the problem of the lawmaker and the
problem of the biologist have some elements in common.

The methods of science and of law have certain elements in
common, although attention is usually focused on their dif-
ferences rather than on their resemblance. The practise of law
consists in the application by deductive reasoning of the prin-
ciples of law to particular cases. The actual practise of science
lies more in the accumulation of facts from which we may one
day arrive at a general principle through a process of induction.
Yet law must have its inductive side, for the great jurists of
the world have built up its principles, which lesser men may
apply. And when the great scientist has built up his induction
from the facts accumulated by many lesser men, application to
particular cases by deductive reasoning is a legitimate method
of science (Thomas Case). The man of science has sometimes
commented on the waste of human energy resulting from the
obscurity of some of the forms of law and the technicalities of
its administration."* But just as the man of science recognizes
the difficulty of arriving at a clear, definite and unequivocal
statement of an induction from the facts at his disposal, so the
clear-minded man of law recognizes the difficulty of making a
clear, definite and unequivocal statement of a legal principle.
But the man of science recognizes that the inductions of science
must be revised from time to time, or even wholly rejected, as
the number of facts increases and their relationships are more
carefully studied. The man of law sometimes insists on the
retention of his venerable forms and attempts to fit all modern
conditions to an old generalization. The body of law is apt to
become a rigid convention and, although the motives of its
founders were without reproach, to become an impediment to
progress. I have called attention elsewhere to the fact that
previous attempts to settle international disputes in accordance
with the terms of existing convention have not been wholly suc-
cessful in avoiding subsequent disagreements or in preventing
later wars.'*

The peace conference which is to meet to settle the late war
will be faced with the task of arriving at certain principles for
the guidance of nations. Those principles, whatever they may
be, must be arrived at by a process of inductive reasoning.
For the peace and security of future generations, let us hope
that the final decision of this conference will be in accordance
with the facts as they are known to-day, and that the attempts

13 Bagehot, ‘‘ Physics and Politics.”
14 Pike, The New York Times, 1917.

326 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to impose restraint upon generations to come by the retention
of outworn and biologically vicious convention will fail. For
unless coming generations are decadent, they will refuse to be
bound by arbitrary convention and the struggle will break out
anew.

The view that individuality is a product of a result of evolu-
tion which I have arrived at is not particularly new. But it
needs to be kept before us. Bergson’s statement has already
been quoted. It seems worth while to give here a statement by
an American psychologist and philosopher with a more distinct
political bearing:

The practical consequence of such a philosophy (%. e., the philosophy
of looking for the significant things in the lives of others), is the well-
known democratic respect for the sacredness of individuality, is, at any
rate, the outward tolerance of whatever is not itself intolerant.

These phrases are so familiar that they sound now rather dead in our
ears. Once they had a passionate inner meaning. Such a passionate
inner meaning they may easily acquire again if the pretensions of our
nation to inflict its own inner ideals and institutions vi et armis upon
Orientals should meet with a resistance as obdurate as so far it has been
gallant and spirited. Religiously and philosophically, our ancient doc-
trine of live and let live may prove to have a far deeper meaning than
our people seem to imagine it to possess.15

In the interest of stability of our American institutions, it
is to be hoped that the attempt of a European nation to inflict
its own inner ideals and institutions vi et armis upon other
nations and ourselves may act quite as effectively as James
hoped the resistance of the Orientals to our own attempts would
in imparting a passionate inner meaning to the phrases that
sounded so dead five years ago. Let us hope also that the
deeper meaning of our ancient doctrine of live and let live may
come to us without further unhappy experience. For, as I be-
lieve, certain forms of propaganda in our country are not far
removed in spirit from militarism, and neither is far from
intolerance.

As for our failure to appreciate the teaching of history, an-
other sentence of James is pertinent here: “ The changing con-
ditions of history touch only the surface of the show.”’®

History to most of us is a matter of the distance receptors
alone, and may have no significance for us. It is only when
things touch us more closely, when they become matters of the
contact receptors, the proprioceptors and the interoceptors that
they have real significance to us and awaken a real human in-

15 James, William, from the preface to “ Talks to Teachers and Stu-

dents,” New York, 1900.
16 Tbid., p. 300.

MAN AND HIS NERVOUS SYSTEM 327

terest. The Egyptians and Babylonians were too far away
for anything but the distance receptors to reach them, and we
did not translate our impressions from sight and hearing into
the terms of impressions from other sense organs. The present
war should have touched us deeply enough, and should have
made sufficient appeal to those receptors which apprise us of
pain and sweat and hunger to give history a real meaning
among us for generations to come.

History, from one point of view, has a distinct interest to
the biologist. The intrigues of rulers and the salacious details
of the private life of court personages does not necessarily im-
press him. But the reaction of a people to any given set of
social or political conditions may have a more intimate relation
to the work of the naturalist. For just as the testimony of the
rocks, the paleontological history of animals, shows what course
the evolution of form has followed in the race, so we may re-
gard the record of history as showing what man has done under
a given set of conditions which, in more ways than one, bear a
resemblance to some of the experimental conditions which we
sometimes impose in order to study the behavior or reactions
of animals.

A quarter of a century before James wrote, the memory
of the events of our Civil War was still vivid enough to lend sig-
nificance to the facts of history. To quote again from Lowell:

They steered by stars the elder shipmen knew,
And laid their courses where the currents draw
Of ancient wisdom channeled deep in law,

The undaunted few

Who changed the Old World for the New,

And more devoutly prized

Than all perfection theorized

The more imperfect that had roots and grew.

If in so short a span as one generation we shall again forget
the stars the elder shipmen knew, and in the space of half a
century be again involved in a struggle for our existence as
free men, let us hope that we will not fail. Wars will probably
not cease because attempts at aggression will end, but if wars
do cease, it will more likely be because we learn to recognize
early the signs of danger, and deal with the agents of evil be-
fore they become too powerful to be controlled. Before we
become able to do this as a nation, we must recognize the value
of “The more imperfect thing that had roots and grew” as
compared with the schemes for universal salvation that are
being so generously set before us in these later days. We may

328 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

vaguely wonder whether the doctrine of ‘‘ America tiber Alles,”
unashamed and unrebuked, will be wholly an influence for good.

I have attempted to show that the Prussian government of
to-day has in it much of the elements of the old tribal theoc-
racies. I have attempted to show also that man’s mind which,
if I am right, is a product of his evolution, rebels against any
such scheme of government. To the biologist such a system is
merely the recrudescence or the persistence of superstition. I
have attempted to point out also some of the dangers of such
a scheme. But these dangers have been so well summed up
and so trenchantly expressed by a philosopher that I quote
them in closing. Few in his day appreciated their significance,
and many and bitter were the attacks upon the author at the
time, but the application to the Prussia of the past two decades
seems clear. To those who would save such a system as the
Prussian autocracy the words may be particularly dedicated:
“That which you keep in your hearts, my brothers, is the slen-
der remnant of a system which has made its red mark on his-
tory, and still lives to threaten mankind. The grotesque forms
of its intellectual belief have survived the discredit of its moral
teaching. Of this what the kings could bear with, the nations
have cut down; and what the nations left, the right heart of
man by man revolts against day by day. You have stretched
out your hands to save the dregs of the sifted sediment of a
residuum. Take heed lest you have given soil and shelter to
the seed of that awful plague which has destroyed two civiliza-
tions and but barely failed to slay such promise of good as is
now struggling to live among men.”?’

17 W. Kingdon Clifford, “The Unseen Universe,” London, 1879.

APPLIED NUTRITION 329

APPLIED NUTRITION FOR RAISING THE
STANDARD OF CHILD VITALITY

By Professor I. NEWTON KUGELMASS

HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF CHEMISTRY, HOWARD COLLEGE

HILE approaching the brink of the dawn of a world

\ \ cataclysm that catalyzed evolutionary progress in both

humane and inhumane activities, let us take inventory of a

phase fundamental in world domism—the “reconstruction”
problem of child welfare.

The war has sobered us and its lessons must be taken truly
to heart for our sufferings were our instructors, Pathemata
Mathemata. Of the doctrines reaped, two point for our con-
sideration—(1) the necessity for physical and mental efficiency
in every citizen and (2) the menace of the dearth of youth.

Ours is the great obligation to build the rising generation
an optimum in body, mind and character if we are to carry into
the future the strength and steadfastness which mark the pres-
ent. Sentiment and emotion alone eventually fade into oblivion
—the deadly policy of laisser faire, laisser passer. They must
be translated into practical terms of concentrated effort and
endeavor; now is the time. Let nothing mar nor hinder, not
even the blood-coagulating dollar. The time is here, the place is
everywhere and the obligation every one’s to serve in the cause
of national upbuilding through child welfare, for the child is
the embryo of the nation’s progress, the parent of the future
generation, the potential citizen.

THE ANTECEDENT FACTORS OF THE RESULTING CHILD

The caliber of the child may be expressed as the resultant of
the two “moments,” heredity, the intrinsic organization of the
germ cells and environment, the extrinsic, stimulating, inhibit-
ing or modifying influences. Evidently to attain the ideal child

EF
mn?
che

Herehe vy

Farrvrronment
Fig. 1.

330 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

these two causative factors must be ideal. Modern applied
scientific tendencies have been in the direction of “ patching-
up” the child rather than in the more important or at least as
important fields of heredity and environment perfection. There
is nothing against these tendencies except that they are un-
balanced. To raise the health standard of the average child we
need science in the service of alleviating the ill-causes much
more so than remedying the ill-effects.

Let us throw the balance in the other—the more serviceable
direction. Curing superficial symptoms of woeful causative
inadequacies has never and will never relieve the situation. We
need to face and cure both evils equally to serve as we should
and as we can with intelligent application of our available
knowledge. The application of the sciences on child welfare

Environment

F1a.: 2.

have thus far been delinquent and the more that “ one-sided-
ness” is practised the longer the prolongation of our low hered-
ity status to our own detriment and that of the coming genera-
tions upon which the nation’s future depends. Of the two
causative factors in child molding—heredity and environment
—the latter promises far more effective returns per unit effort,
but both are in dire need of attention.

For our immediate purpose let us consider environment and
its component influences of which the home and the school are
the most permeating. The salvation of the child lies in the com-
plete harmony of school and home functioning with the body
developments of the child with age.

CHILDHOOD IN CONSTANT FLUX AND REFLUX

An analysis of body developments with age shows the child
not a miniature man, but distinctly different from the adult in
vitality, intellect, emotion, instinct and metabolism. As a mat-
ter of fact, these intrinsic differences are characterized through-
out childhood by their constant alternation in activity and pas-
sivity. Child metamorphosis proceeds with constant flux and
reflux—a living illustration of Newton’s Third Law of Motion:
“ Action = Reaction.”

APPLIED NUTRITION 331

PERIODICITY OF ACTION AND REACTION IN HUMAN METAMORPHOSIS

Age Growth Coordination | Development Characteristics
Birth | Rapid | Motor Corporeal |Endo- Recep- | Stimu- Exalta-
to 7 thermic! tivity lation tion
7-14 | Slow Motion and Intellec- | Exo- | Produc- | Fatigue | Depres-
emotion tual | thermic) tivity sion
14-17 | Sudden Corporeal |Endo- | Recep- | Stimu- Exalta-
| thermic) tivity lation tion
18-25 | Slow Emotions and | Intellec- | Exo- ! Produc- | Fatigue , Depres-
ideals tual | thermic| tivity | sion

THE RELATIONS OF SCHOOL LIFE TO THE CRITICAL TRANSITION
EPOCHS IN CHILD DEVELOPMENT

In the light of the above analysis of human metamorphosis
the school’s responsibility in molding childhood in harmony
with its fluxating development is evident. Thanks to the world
educators and psychologists for stimulating research in the
cause, but as yet our school systems are far from what they
should and could be.

The effects of school life upon the child are appalling. Ex-
tensive surveys throughout the country have shown persistent
prevalence among school children of: (1) growth retardation,
(2) appetite deterioration, (3) corpuscle degeneration, (4)
blood deoxygenation, (5) metabolic alterations, (6) superficial
respiration, (7) morbidity, (8) malnutrition, (9) remediable
defects, (10) reduced vitality. Is the school functioning har-
moniously with the development periods of the child? Is the
home guilty of negligent depreciation of vitality through inade-
quate nurture, health conditions and care? Yes, the school and
the home are the reciprocally responsible sources.

The scope of the educational machinery is still narrow if its
aims are not generally all-inclusive and well-balanced, if its
habitual training for healthy physique is not on par with the
mental. The great problem at our advanced stage is to get
away from an education for a living to an education for a life
to best enable and set free each individual to do his and her best
for the common welfare. Upon that necessary and sufficient
transition in educational ideals pends the safeguarding, up-
building and perpetuating of our American democracy.

Then too the “rule-of-thumb” empiricism for bringing up
children is incompatible with their variant needs. Deficiencies
heaping up thereby as a result of neglect and ignorance among
poor and rich alike rob humanity of latent productivity—a great
impediment upon our nation, an irretrievable waste of our
rising generation. The scientific and rational principles of
health and nutrition must become more assimilated into the con-

332 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ceptions and practises of the public or even the medical profes-
sion if we are to build a maximum efficient democracy.

APPLIED NUTRITION FOR RAISING THE STANDARD OF
CHILD VITALITY

With the vast number of variegated food materials, natural
and artificial, palatable and adulterated, drugged and normal
all behind attractive camouflaged labels it behooves one to select
what will constitute an adequate diet for the growing child.
Faulty diets have been devitalizing the innocent child with
resultant deficiency diseases. Malnutrition has impoverished
the child world with reduced vitality, disease susceptibility,
minimized educational receptivity, anseemified physique and re-
sultant stunting of mental and physical development—hasic ele-
ments for mollycoddles not men, wishbones not backbones, jelly-
fish not brains. The retribution for dietetic sins in childhood
is a much more speedy reaction than in adult age. Stop the
starving, stunting, stultifying of the child. It’s criminal.
Every child has a biologic birthright to a useful body and mind.
Grant that right by complying with natural laws governing
body needs formulated by science. The science of nutrition is
at our service.

Instinct a Non-reliable Guide in Food-selection.—The per-
petuity of change in the human species modifies simultaneously
the dependent factors on health preservation as a result of the
curtailment of the activities of various parts of the body so that
claiming practicability of instinct as a natural guide on the
basis of past service to humanity is irrelevant. Furthermore,
instinct varies with personal idiosyncrasy, habits, conventions,
moods—conditions not necessarily compatible with food value
to the body. Reliable knowledge should be if it is not at the
command of all to supplant inherited instincts.

FROM BIRTH

(Relative in proportion to body weight)
Increase Decrease

1. Density of blood. 1. Water in blood.

2. Concentrated red corpuscles. 2. Concentrated white corpuscles.
3. Concentrated haemoglobin. 3. Iron content.

4. Mineral matter. 4. Organic Matter.

5. Calcium carbonate. 5. Calcium phosphate.

6. Oxygen absorption. 6. Thyroid gland, kidneys, thymus.
7. CO, excretion. 7. Suprarenal capsules.

8. Colloidal substances.

9. Brain, heart, lungs.

10. Metabolic intensity.

APPLIED NUTRITION 333

The Child Needs (1) tissue foods, (2) energy foods, (3)
regulating foods, (4) protective foods. Nutritional instruction
should be on the basis of food function rather than composition
of interest to the chemist only since the former appeals to the
pupil’s actual experience and familiarity while the latter rarely
strikes ‘ home.”

The general factors interrelated with child nutrition are a
knowledge of (1) food functions in body, (2) essential body
component sources in foods, (3) relative amounts of food re-
quired per age, (4) adaptable foods to the digestive system,
rate of growth, state of development, (5) feeding intervals per
age, (6) proper sequence at mealtime.

THE TISSUE FOODS

Feeding children involves not only waste repair, the adult
need, but new tissue building as well if the child’s growth is not
to be stunted. The body tissues are: (1) The circulating—
blood, (2) the master—brain and nervous system, (3) the con-
tractile—muscles, (4) the supporting—bones and teeth, (5) the
cryptorrhetic—thyroid and secretions.

A diet may contain all the necessary constituents for tissue
repair and yet may be lacking in some constituents essential for
new tissue growth. If these constituents can not be formed in
the child organisms as they can in the adult out of others in the
diet, it is evident that they must be supplied to the child from
without else abide by the fate of inadequate dieting. The ani-
mal and vegetable complex proteins upon the action of proteo-
lytic enzymes in the stomach are ultimately hydrolyzed into the
digestion products essentially the various amino-acids. These,
absorbed into the blood, are the building units of the body
tissues to be formed. Since different protein foods contain not
all of the amino-acids essential for tissue synthesis and in differ-
ent proportions, it is very essential that the child get a proper
combination of proteins for the body availability of all the
amino-acids and their right proportions required for both new
tissue building as well as for tissue repair. It is not strictly
protein as such, but amino-acids that the body needs. Those
indispensable to growth are arginin, cystin, histidin, lisin, and
those essential to maintenance or tissue repair are the aromatic
amino-acids. Any surplus is partly converted by de-amination
into carbohydrate and fat to contribute to the body’s energy re-
quirements. In all the child’s total protein requirement is more
per unit body weight than the adult’s. This does not mean, asis
the usual misapprehension, that the proportion of proteins to

334 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

total food intake is greater. The normal need is protein to be
ten per cent. of the total ration for children as well as for adults.
The necessary and sufficient protein utilization and assimilation
depend on what may be termed the amino-acid efficiency of the
ingested food. From this standpoint a few foods may be graded
as follows: (1) milk, eggs, cheese, meat, fish; (2) wheat, oats,
pulses, nuts; (8) corn; (4) gelatin. This does not mean that
only those in (1) should be consumed, for the others may have
essential components for other body functions. It does point,
however, to the necessity for guarding children’s diet so that
upon digestion the specific kinds and proportions of amino-
acids will be available.

In infant feeding the available chemical components of
foods are not the only factors, but their physiologic functions
must be considered as well. During the nursing period the
infant is not adapted for the metabolism of nutrients derived
from sources other than woman’s milk. Breast feeding devel-
ops the digestive tract, functions in better brain and nerve
building by the lecithin content in the milk, gives all the amino-
acids in the proportions requisite for growth, serves for
stronger teeth and is generally correlated with higher mortal-
ity. Furthermore, B. bifidus is present to the exclusion of
other forms in the normal breast-fed child. It produces no
putrefaction, decomposes no albuminous matter which would
form toxic products. These bacilli are more than harmless,
they are an important defense in preventing intestinal putre-
faction and displacing harmful flora.

THE ENERGY FOODS

Children’s energy requirement is greater per unit surface
area of the body than the adult’s because of their higher
metabolism. The energy functions for keeping body tempera-
ture normal, for the maintenance of the life processes more
rapid than in adult, for muscular activity, for body syntheses
of the building materials utilized in repair and growth, and
for storage.

The carbohydrates are absorbed into the blood plasma as
monosaccharides after intestinal digestion. These upon oxida-
tion liberate energy for the performance of muscular move-
ments as well as for bringing about endothermal reactions.
Any surplus is stored in the liver, muscles and other organs as
glycogen. Excessive amounts beyond the normal assimilation
limit of the organs tend to be transformed into fat.

Fat, the concentrated potential energy source, after being

APPLIED NUTRITION 335

hydrolyzed in the stomach yields fatty acids and glycerol which
are absorbed by the lymph vessels and together taken up by the
blood plasma, distributed to the tissues according to their needs,
contributing to the constitution of protoplasm as well as for
heat production. Any excess aids the conservation of body heat.

Any excess protein intake will be de-aminized, yielding carbo-
hydrates and probably fats for the body’s energy require-
ments. In other words all foods are sources for heat and mus-
cular movements in proportion to body preference, specific
nutrient availability and surplus.

In child development the specificity of carbohydrate func-
tion is prevalent. Galactose, for instance, is essential for nerve
medullation of the cerebrum. It is derived from lactose, the
milk sugar and none other will replace it. Again, milk, although
containing an insufficiency of the total carbohydrate require-
ment, has the essential sugars entering into the composition of
the child’s body. Another favorable point is that lactose in
milk is least liable to fermentation, whereas all other sugars
yield acid products in the stomach.

Sugar is a beneficial muscle food for the children if taken in
diluted form. Excessively large concentrated amounts of sugar
ingested irritate the tissue, abnormally increase the mucous
secretion as well as the acid gastric juice content, thereby inter-
fering with normal digestion. Furthermore, the requisite vege-
table food intake will be diminished since it satisfies the appe-
tite without adequate nourishment with serious consequences
of the deficiency diet to growing children.

The four per cent. fat content in milk in the emulsified pal-
atable and easily digested form is the optimum satisfying the
caloric need of the normal child. Excessive fat ingestion over-
taxes the infant’s undeveloped digestive system, causing the
prevalent gastrointestinal indigestion with a simultaneous loss
of alkalinity which may result in acidosis.

THE REGULATING Foops.

During the functional activity of the child mineral nutrients
are indispensable for all tissue building providing the support-
ing structures as well as for metabolic regulation. Among
the diverse functions of the inorganic components in the
body are:

A. As Stimulators—

a. Conducting nerve impulses.

b. Activating enzymic transformations.
c. Increasing metabolic reaction velocity.
d. Catalyzing cellular activity.

336 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

B. As Regulators—

. Controlling heart and muscular activity.

. Maintaining blood acid-base equilibrium.

. Counteracting harmful products by chemical combination.

. Governing respiration processes.

. Aiding proper membrane permeability.

. Providing a solution concentration of normal osmotic pressure.

The prevalence of anemia during the weaning period of the
infant is due to iron inadequacy, which causes a diminution in
the hemoglobin and chromatin bodies, both largely responsible
for metabolic and growth processes. It is imperative that
special provision be made in the child’s diet for an iron content
sufficient for both body maintenance and increasing blood sup-
ply, since the iron reserve continually diminishes from birth on.
The iron component in the daily ration should not be the sport
of chance, but purposeful inclusion if due justice is to be afforded
to the child’s development. Medicinal inorganic iron in tonics
is not only a costly substitute for a healthy dietary violation, but
no actual substitute at all since it is temporary acting as a stim-
ulus rather than a hemoglobin producer. You can not beat
nature to it, but accept her organic iron in foods combined in
assimilable form for the body.

Malnutrition associated with flabbiness, weak bones and
teeth are a direct result of phosphorus deficiency. Retarded
development, structural weakness and rickets observed in chil-
dren are effects of calcium inadequacy. The structural sup-
porting tissues partake of the continuous metabolic changes as
well as the others. The former need continual replenishment
as well as the latter. The child’s need in addition to the normal
calcium and phosphorus assimilation in all tissues is a suffi-
ciency for the constant structural increase during growth.

Children must have an adequate supply of inorganic com-
ponents. As a matter of fact maximum duration of life de-
pends on the maintenance of a concentration of salts in the blood
proportional to those found in the sea, an experimental fact
(Loeb) probably correlated with the marine origin of ver-
tebrates.

Life depreciation is evident if we view the ill-effects of min-
eral deficiency. Just protein-carbohydrate-fat diet is disastrous.
It means an acid laden system without any alkalies from min-
eral sources for neutralization. Intestinal putrefaction is im-
mensely increased, a condition largely responsible for fifty per
cent. of body impairment. Furthermore, interference with the
body-regulating and stimulating powers will inevitably result
in nervous and muscular disturbances—constipation, acidosis,

>» Oo A,8 OQ

APPLIED NUTRITION 337

scurvy and what not. The familiar grouch is a living example
of mineral deficiency in the diet. Keep the child blooming with
a positive and ever-pleasant disposition by sufficient mineral
salt provision.

In the table below the foods are arranged in the order of
diminishing content of the essential mineral constituents per
unit weight of fresh food compiled from Professor Sherman’s
tabulations in his “‘ Chemistry of Food and Nutrition.” Iron,
phosphorus and calcium are listed because of the liability of

inadequate provision in the child’s daily ration.

Fic.

TH METABOLIC CouURSH OF FOODS.

Tron Phosphorus Calcium
Beans (lima, dried) Beans (navy, dried) Almonds
Beans (navy, dried) Egg yolk Beans (dried)
Peas (dried) Peas (dried) Egg yolk
Wheat (entire grain) Peanuts Milk
Beafsteak (lean) Wheat (entire grain) Peas (dried)
Spinach Oatmeal Oatmeal
Oatmeal Almonds Walnuts
Raisins Walnuts Peanuts
Eggs Beef (lean) Turnips
Prunes (dried) Rice (polished) Parsnips
Beans (string) Parsnips Carrots
Corn meal Potatoes Oranges
Potatoes Turnips Prunes (dried)
Barley flour Beets Wheat (entire grain)
Cabbage Pineapples Beets
Corn (sweet) Bananas Beans (dried)
Rice (polished) Oranges
Apples Apples
Milk

VOL, ViII.—22.

338 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

WATER AS A REGULATING FoopD

The internal body medium which makes vital processes pos-
sible is water. It is the most abundant cell and blood compo-
nent. Common as it is water is endowed with the most wonder-
ful properties, nature’s special provision for its following regu-
latory functions: (1) maintains normal body temperature, (2)
solvent and dispersion medium, (3) accelerates chemical reac-
tions, (4) transfers heat between cells, (5) conveys food and
oxygen to the tissues, (6) removes metabolic waste products,
(7) coordinates metabolic processes.

The water content of the body is not a function of body
weight, but of age. The infant needs four times as much water
as the adult per body weight. This indicates that we are
gradually “drying out” with seventy per cent. water content
in youth diminishing to fifty-eight per cent. in adult age, but
for the sake of growth beware “drying” the child, for tissue
efficiency varies directly as the water content therein. Further-
more, the body carbohydrates and fats form stable dispersion
systems with water—essential criteria for soundness of consti-
tution. Any water deficiency for the child may result in (1)
growth disturbances, (2) muscular slackness, (3) gastro-intes-
tinal indigestion, (4) discordant metabolic coordination, (5)
fluctuating fever, (6) increasing blood viscosity, (7) increased
catabolism. Let the child have plenty of water during and be-
tween meals. A glass of water on rising and one on retiring
will supplant many a purgative dose.

THE PROTECTIVE FOODS

Biologic studies correlated with chemical have led McCollum
and his co-workers to the recently extolled conclusions of pro-
found importance in child nutrition that life perishes without
foods containing fat-soluble A and water-soluble B. Faulty
diets have been largely responsible for “deficiency diseases,”
e. g., xerophthalmia, beri-beri, scurvy, pellagra and rickets.
Adding these two unidentified substances brings about recovery.
Insuring a non-appearance of any of these diseases, or rather
making the child immune to them, lies in the ingestion of foods
containing these two essential components. They stimulate
growth and well-being probably by initiating and coordinating
the protoplasmic formation reactions among the essential com-
ponents prepared by the digestive processes. The more of them
the child gets the better it feels.

APPLIED NUTRITION 339

The protective foods containing them are milk and the leafy
vegetables. Here too their relative functioning is of marked
gradation. As a matter of fact a nation’s status may be inter-
preted from the standpoint of its utilizing milk or leafy vege-
tables or both as its protective foods. As McCollum puts it:

Those peoples who have employed the leaf of the plant as their sole
protéctive food are characterized by small stature, relative short span of
life, high infant mortality, and by contented adherence to the employment
of the simple mechanical inventions of their forefathers. The peoples who
have made liberal use of milk as a food, have, in contrast, attained greater
size, greater longevity, and have been much more successful in the rearing
of their young. They have been more aggressive than the non-milk-using
peoples, and have achieved much greater advancement in literature, science
and art. They have developed in a higher degree educational and political
systems which offer the greatest opportunity for the individual to develop
his powers. Such development has a physiological basis and there seems
every reason to believe that it is fundamentally related to nutrition.

Just as the sulphuric-acid output is the chemical barometer
of a nation, so the amount of milk production is its health
barometer. Milk has no duplicate, no substitute. It towers
above all other foods. It is nature’s best agent for child-build-
ing and a national wide provision must be made for its ready
access to the growing child if our goal is human personality
well grown and ready in body and mind.

THE CHILD’S ADEQUATE DIET

Satisfactory nutrition for optimum child growth and devel-
opment is attained by diets well-proportioned in the essential
foodstuffs with plenty of water.

3 %3 ¥3
Milk. Meat, Fruits,
Eggs, Vegetables
Seed Products. and the Leafy
Vegetables.

An additional dietary factor of vital importance, a daily
American mispractice is the lack of balance of acid and base
forming foods. If the nutrients are present in proportion to
the body’s requirement the bases will predominate. The foods
below are listed in the order of their decreasing resultant
acidity or basicity as demonstrated by Professor Sherman of
Columbia University.

340

Acid-Forming

Egg yolk
Fish (haddock)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Base-Forming

Beans (lima, dried)
Beans (dried)

Meat (lean beef) Raisins
Oatmeal Celery
Eggs Cantaloup
Wheat (entire) Lettuce
Rice Potatoes
Crackers Oranges
Egg-white Lemons
Cereals, meat and fish Bananas
Acid Elements: Cl, S. P. Cauliflower
Cabbage
Apples

Milk (cow’s)
Fruit and vegetables
Basic Elements: Na, K, Ca, Mg

The child’s normal diet should consist of sufficient milk,
fruits and vegetables to neutralize the acids formed from the
other foods. The American custom of acid-forming dessert is
largely the cause of her dental troubles at the child’s early age.
These sweet or starchy foods decompose in the interstices of the
teeth with the production of acids which diminish the saliva
alkalinity, flow and effectiveness. The acids further act upon
the lime salts of the enamel, favor tartar deposition and pus
formation in the alveoli, thus giving entrance to microorganisms
which destroy the tooth structure. The French dessert prin-
ciple is correct. It is a base-forming food—fruit. It is wrong
for parental customs, conventions and idiosyncrasies to vic-
timize the innocent child.

The quantitative feature as well as the qualitative is of im-
portant concern in dietary rationing. Waste of the rising gen-
eration is too evident for malnutrition through under nourish-
ment not to be considered. It is well to abide by the child’s
total food requirement with greater per unit weight and also
per unit surface than the adult’s. In fulfillment of this require-
ment it is not necessary to use analytical scales or resort to
extensive calculation of a man in full vigor at moderate work;
the following fractional parts per age may be used to advantage.

JWWIEH TE: 665.3 ORR TR CREE TOU EAS ey Oo) Hae 2 1.0
AUC 002) 0), 42, ey ee aS OMRR RTA PMS gs Bae REL Nc 0.8
bateerc)) (Ly: 2 27 0 aaa Oe RE URINE A Diag on a 0.8
(Gri icy ( ly @ RReae PRR CR eea SA 0.7
Hula re HOTS ei ay a5 ocr tale ote eed cae 0.6
GiitlawenecG—9))) oe vase. & stu arias hat eee 0.5
Childrente(2Z—)) sid crstecusie ia cole naeeemo te eee ioe 0.4

rT Memeo Me es 8S cr aies (adapta oe ache Ree et tee teens 0.3

APPLIED NUTRITION 341

RELATIVE TOTAL FOOD REQUIREMENT.

To recapitulate, the child’s diet is different from the adult’s
in some of the following respects: (1) Natural and simple, (2)
plenty of milk and leafy vegetables, (3) plenty of water, (4) no
stimulants, (5) no highly seasoned foods, (6) hard foods dur-
ing tooth development, (7) coarse, fibrous foods for smoothen-
ing teeth surfaces, (8) heartiest meal at noon, (9) no food
between meals, (10) no sweets at the beginning or end of meal.

From the above considerations we realize that body needs
are governed by natural laws formulated by science. The
closer the adherence and the more intelligent the application of
the available knowledge the higher the standard of public health
and vitality. Educational reforms will bring the science of
nutrition from the theoretical background to the practical front.
For that indispensable service we need universal instruction in
nutrition, dietetics, prophylaxis, child health; competent trained
elementary school teachers and health visitors in nutrition and
public health; infant welfare centers; social service staffs ; more
social-unit organization work under the auspices of the child-
welfare leagues and child health associations; public coopera-
tive kitchens; public demonstration centers; public-school child
feeding; regular and periodic inspection of school children;
more financial aid to mothers; more housekeepers’ clubs; more
public lectures on health, nutrition and sanitation. The public
can not go to the schools; we must go to the public.

342 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

COOPERATION AND INDIVIDUALISM IN
SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGATION

By DR. C. L. SHEAR,

U. S. DEPARTMENT OF AGRICULTURE

HE dominant note in the papers and discussions of the
i ( biologists at the Baltimore meeting of the American
Association for the Advancement of Science and the affiliated
societies, December 23-28, 1918, was the plea for greater co-
operation among scientists. There were not wanting, however,
those who maintained the need of individualism also, and its
importance in scientific work. As a result one well-known
botanist apparently expressed the feelings of some others when
he said that after listening to the various papers he was left in
a state of perplexity in regard to these matters. If such per-
plexity is at all general, it would seem desirable to try to dis-
cover its source and come to some better understanding as to
the relation of cooperation and individualism in research.

In this case as in many others in which friends and col-
leagues fail to agree, the trouble appears to be largely due to a
difference in interpretation of terms rather than in any real
difference of opinion. Confusion of ideas and conclusions come
frequently from lack of agreement as to the meaning of terms.

In discussing this subject, some seem to have taken for
granted ideas which have not even been stated. As an academic
proposition, most of us will agree that the chief aim of scientific
investigation should be to advance knowledge and improve the
condition of mankind. In attempting to attain the high ideals
which are being proclaimed to-day by the leaders in all fields of
human endeavor, we must not forget that if the majority of the

1 The following are a few of the papers referred to: Livingston, B. E.,
“Some Responsibilities of Botanical Sciences,” Science, N.S., 49, 199-207,
February 28, 1919. Coulter, J. M., “ The Botanical Opportunity,” Science,
N.S., 49, 8363-367, April 18, 1919. Ransom, B. H., Osborn, H., “ Methods
of Securing Better Cooperation Between Government and Laboratory
Zoologists in the Solution of Problems of General or National Importance,”
Science, N.S., 50, 27-30, July 11, 1919. Whetzel, H. H., “ Cooperation
among Plant Pathologists,” Cornell Countrym., 16, 18, 36, 38, 40, February,
1919; “Democratic Coordination of Scientific Efforts,” Science, N.S., 50,
51-55, July 18, 1919. Lyman, G. R., “The Unification of American
Botany,” Science, N.S., 49, 339-345, April 11, 1919. Harper, R. A.,
“Stimulation of Botanical Research After the War” (unpublished).

COOPERATION AND INDIVIDUALISM 343

individuals in any nation or group do not possess these ideals
and take a deep personal interest in their attainment, no great
progress will be made.

COOPERATION

All are familiar with the ordinary dictionary definition of
“cooperation.” It is working together for one end or purpose.
Cooperation has accomplished much in many fields of human
activity. It has been asserted that cooperation won the great
war and it undoubtedly was a very important factor. This ac-
complishment alone would naturally cause the word to appeal
to us after having passed through the titanic conflict which has
exterminated millions of human beings and is the direct result
of the antithesis of cooperation, viz., competition of the basest
and most malevolent type.

In cases where the destruction of individuals, families and
nations is threatened, many gladly cooperate and work together
for the preservation of life and property who would not be
willing to forget their petty differences and prejudices and unite
their efforts for less striking though equally important pur-
poses in times of peace.

It must be recognized that it is only by organized coopera-
tive effort that many of the great scientific problems now pre-
senting themselves for solution can be successfully attacked.
No single human mind can encompass all the knowledge neces-
sary to solve many of the complex problems, which involve a
profound knowledge of various branches of science.

Cooperation has been demonstrated to be of great impor-
tance in solving many of the problems presented in the present
conflicts and activities of the human race. As scientists, we
should determine if possible just how this plan can be applied
most effectively to the solution of our particular problems. Co-
operation in its broadest sense covers of course all interchanges
of courtesies and assistance between investigators. If one is
investigating an organism or group of organisms and a col-
league supplies cultures or material of certain species, this is a
simple form of cooperation. On the other hand, it may involve
the intimate association of a group of specialists working to-
gether for years on some complex problem.

The advancement of science and the solution of its problems
depend upon the availability of many materials, instruments
and other facilities. Our laboratories, our apparatus, our
libraries, our means of publication and illustration, either
directly or indirectly are the result of cooperative agencies and
activities. The phase of cooperation, however, with which we
are most directly concerned at present is that which has been

344 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

undertaken in connection with scientific work carried on by
individuals, offices, bureaus and institutions, in which investi-
gators or institutions pool their interests, funds and men in
attacking some broad problem. In such cases, if the investi-
gators are responsible for carrying out the scientific work in-
volved, they must come to some general understanding in regard
to the division of labor, resources and other matters involved.
In order to carry out such a project, the participants must be
actuated by proper motives and not by selfish aims. Most of us
will admit as a general proposition that selfishness is the chief
source of our troubles in scientific work as well as in other
human relations, but we are somewhat sensitive and hesitate to
admit it so readily when the application becomes too personal.
Few of us, I fear, however, will be prepared to plead entirely
innocent.

It should go without saying that there can be no real or suc-
cessful cooperation between persons who undertake the work in
the spirit of horse traders, the chief aim being to see which can >
get the best of the bargain. Neither can successful cooperation
be inaugurated and carried on by command or direction of those
in authority. The cooperation must be voluntary and the prob-
lem attacked must be adapted to cooperative effort. Coopera-
tion can not be applied to advantage in all cases and under all
conditions. Its applicability and effectiveness must depend upon
the particular problem and the individuals involved.

To attain the best results the participants should also be
optimists, not pessimists. An excellent criterion has recently
been proposed to classify individuals in this respect by deter-
mining their attitude toward oysters. The optimist is said to
be always looking for pearls and the pessimist for ptomaine
poison.

An obstacle to cooperation among organizations and institu-
tions is the more or less artificial divisions of the field of inves-
tigation which have been made chiefly for administrative pur-
pose, but which must sometimes be disregarded by mutual con-
sent in order to attack and solve a problem most effectively and
quickly. Unfortunately there are sometimes directors of scien-
tific work who lack sufficient understanding of the problems
involved to approve and encourage cooperation among the in-
vestigators who are naturally fitted for and willing to do such
work.

Cooperation in scientific work is not comparable to joining
hands in mere manual labor. In such cases we may simply
lighten each others burdens or accomplish the task quicker. In
cooperating on a scientific problem each worker should con-

COOPERATION AND INDIVIDUALISM 345

tribute something which he is better fitted to perform than any
other of the cooperators. The contribution of each differs
chiefly in kind or quality instead of quantity.

It may be said that sufficient difficulties have already been
mentioned to demonstrate the impracticability, if not the im-
possibility, of any general or effective cooperation in research.
We refuse, however, to take such a pessimistic view of the
situation and can not believe that the present generation of
scientists is so hopeless. Our faith in the possibility and prac-
ticability of cooperation among scientists is not founded en-
tirely upon academic grounds, but upon actual demonstration
by experiment.

Many will be able to recall one or more examples of success-
ful cooperation in attacking some scientific problem. To cite a
specific case in phytopathology we may refer to the recent
investigation of chestnut blight. Mutually agreeable coopera-
tive arrangements were made between different offices in the
Department of Agriculture and various experiment station
workers to attack different phases of the problem. This co-
operation was so broad that it included entomologists as well as
physiologists, pathologists, taxonomists and chemists. By this
arrangement all the varied aspects of the problem were studied,
and much greater and more rapid progress was made in the
solution of the whole problem than could have been made by any
other plan. Unfortunately, lack of funds prevented carrying
certain phases of the work to completion, but this was no fault
of the plans or the investigators involved.

The problems in plant pathology being those with which we
are most intimately acquainted we may be pardoned for citing
an example of work which is typical of many pathological inves-
tigations in which cooperation is essential for success. Recently
investigations of the cause and prevention of the decay and
spoilage of fruit and vegetables in transportation and market-
ing have been undertaken. It was soon found that much more
knowledge of the normal and pathological physiology of such
plant products must be obtained. This required the service of
specially trained, expert physiologists and biochemists. As
many microorganisms were also involved in the decay, expert
mycologists and pathologists were needed to solve the problems
connected with their life history, relationships and physiological
characteristics. Certain practical phases of the work also re-
quired the assistance of pomologists, refrigeration and market
experts. It would appear self-evident that no one person could
do the work necessary to carry such an investigation to a suc-
cessful conclusion. It might be said that the problem could be
separated into its various parts and assigned to physiologists,

346 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

biochemists, pathologists, mycologists and various other experts
to work out by themselves. Experience has proved that the
problem can not be economically or effectively solved in this
manner. The various phases form such an intricate, complex
problem that it is only by specially trained investigators work-
ing in closest cooperation and mutual understanding that the
problem can be solved.

The best known general cooperative effort in plant pathol-
ogy is that undertaken by the War Board of the American
Phytopathological Society. In order to bring to bear as effect-
ively and quickly as possible the available facts needed in pre-
venting losses from plant diseases, especially of the staple food
products and also to acquire as quickly as possible more neces-
sary information, the board undertook to facilitate and encour-
age cooperative work among the men best fitted to attack the
various problems involved. The essential features of the plan
were voluntary offers of cooperation by the individuals and
mutual agreement among the cooperators in the selection of a
leader for each project. The results of the cooperative efforts
inaugurated by the war board for the war emergency were so
important and successful that the great majority of American
pathologists have signified their desire to see the work con-
tinued as a permanent project. As a result, a new board called
the advisory board of the society has been appointed and is
specifically delegated to promote cooperative work among
pathologists.

The familiar quotation from Shakespeare “ There is a tide
in the affairs of men which taken at the flood leads on to
fortune” is especially applicable just now. If we interpret the
signs correctly such a tide is now flowing and we should as
scientists take all possible advantage of it. If according to the
inscrutable plans by which the universe is guided, such a fright-
ful slaughter as we have just witnessed was necessary in order
to provide for the future advancement and welfare of humanity,
it is not only an opportunity but a grave and imperative duty
which presents itself at this time. The world as never before
is looking to scientists for leadership, help and encouragement.
The intellectual and spiritual battles which must be fought and
won in the immediate future far surpass in importance the
physical conflicts we have just passed through.

If the recently reorganized National Research Council lives
up to the high aims set forth by the President in his executive
order it will offer the greatest opportunity for organized co-
operative effort in research that has ever occurred. It is to be
hoped that it will be so supplied with the necessary funds and
the support of all scientific investigators that it may fully
demonstrate the advantages of cooperative effort in science.

COOPERATION AND INDIVIDUALISM 347

Its measure of success must depend in great part upon the
personel of the council. The importance of this is clearly and
forcibly expressed by Dr. Hale, the former chairman of the
council, in his invitation to the scientific societies to nominate
representatives for membership in the council. He says:

The future success of the National Research Council and the part to
be taken by the United States in the International Research Council, of
which it is the American member, will be chiefly determined by the repre-
sentatives of the societies comprised in its membership. Recognized abil-
ity in research, wide understanding of its possibilities, keen interest in its
promotion, and willingness to give time and thought to the work of the
Research Council are the prime qualifications sought; whereas mere sen-
iority in the profession, and scientific or technical activity without special
interest in research, are evidently of themselves insufficient.

Every scientist and every scientific organization should take
an active interest in the Research Council, giving it all the
assistance possible, in order that it may carry out the great pur-
poses for which it has been established. We should not only
regard it as a great opportunity, but as a great obligation. The
world is looking to us for cooperation and leadership in science
as well as in political matters. Let us not disappoint it. We
now have the necessary organization for cooperating with the
various scientific organizations throughout the world. If this
agency is properly utilized there should be a great acceleration
in the advancement of science in the near future.

INDIVIDUALISM

It may appear to some that very little room is left in this
scheme for individualism. The impression seems to prevail
that there is a real conflict between the terms “cooperation”
and “individualism.” This we believe is due again to failure to
properly define and understand the true significance and appli-
cation of the terms. But a few years since, we were hearing
much about the conflict between science and religion. To-day it
is generally accepted that between true science and true religion
there can be no conflict; both must have their basis in truth.
The same may be said of cooperation and individualism. Be-
tween cooperation and individualism, in their proper applica-
tion, there can be no conflict, for their aim is the discovery and
application of truth. The chief problem is to determine the
most effective manner in which each can be utilized in advanc-
ing science.

The fullest exercise of individual initiative, ability and ex-
pression in research, has in the past been most seriously inter-
fered with by lack of encouragement and of funds and facilities,
and by administrative restrictions.

348 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It has been asserted that scientists, especially those endowed
with extraordinary ability in research, should be free to follow
unrestrained and unhampered wherever the spirit leads them.
The best work in science as well as in art and literature must be
primarily spontaneous and voluntary; but some guidance, some
assistance and much encouragement may be given, the kind and
amount depending upon the individuals involved and the prob-
lems under investigation.

Darwins and Edisons are rare. The future advancement of
science must depend chiefly on the combined efforts of the mass
of faithful seekers of truth whose names may never appear near
the top of the scroll of honor of the world’s greatest scientists.

Every effort should be made and every facility offered the
individual investigator to utilize and develop in the most effect-
ive way all the ability for research which he may possess, but
however brilliant the individual may be or however narrow or
special his problem, cooperation in some form may be found
advantageous. Individualism and originality should find full
expression in the recognition of specific problems and their
analysis and in the planning and carrying on of experiments
and observations which give promise of leading to their solution
or adding something of importance to the sum of human knowl-
edge.

In general, special problems which do not require too great
a diversity of knowledge of the various branches of science are
best adapted to solution by individual effort, while broad and
general problems can be more efficiently attacked by coopera-
tion among individuals, each having free scope for the full
exercise of his special training and ability in attacking some
special phase of the general problem, the co-workers comparing
results and coordinating their work by frequent conferences.

The applicability of cooperation and individualism in any
particular case must be determined by the nature of the prob-
lem involved and the special ability and training of the investi-
gators.

As we have tried to point out, there are plenty of problems
and opportunities for the fullest exercise of the ability of the
individual investigator as well as for cooperative efforts. The
fundamental requirements for the success of either form of
activity or combination of the two will depend largely upon the
ideals and aims of the individual investigators involved. If
their primary motives are love of research, the advancement of
science and the improvement of mankind, there is not likely to
arise any great difficulty in determining the best plan of work.
If, however, baser motives dominate, the greatest success can
not be attained.

SPECIES AND SPONGES 349

IN REGARD TO SPECIES AND SPONGES

By Professor H. V. WILSON
UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA

larly “difficult to distinguish” in certain genera, in many
genera of sponges, for instance. Where this is so, it is in large
part due to the fact that many specimens from various regions
have been reported on. In such cases we begin to be face to
face with the facts (of variation) as they are, not as they are
assumed to be, when the species description rests on one or two
specimens or on specimens from one locality.

A species in literature starts with the description of type
specimens embodying a certain combination of characters, some
of which are dimensional. As more or less similar specimens
from different localities are studied, more and more such char-
acter combinations become known. These are of such a kind
that, in sponges at least, if we consider any particular charac-
ter, for instance the nature of the cortical canal spaces in the
sponge Donatia, or the size and shape of the little spicules
known as choanosomal asters in this genus, we shall often find,
perhaps always find if we look long enough, forms that are
intermediate between “ species” in which the character in ques-
tion has been regarded as a differential, that is, as a con-
spicuous mark of difference. That is, in respect to any one
character there are species, and indeed often genera, which
intergrade. Series of this kind indicate that the characters
vary, or in the production of existing races have varied inde-
pendently of one another.

As yet the most practical way of handling such complex
data is to regard the race, usually geographical, which is rep-
resented by a described type, as the nucleus of a species that is
gradually to be described. Round the race represented by the
type specimens, and characterized by a certain character-
combination, the so-called variations are gradually plotted. In
this process racial or germinal marks are, it must be confessed,
often confused through the limitations of the method with
more purely somatic or environmental features. After a time,
species-ideas emerge that are rich in content, and usable for all

fi the language of systematic zoology, species are particu-

350 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

kinds of biological work. Such species-ideas, however, owing
to the way in which they have been built up, will undoubtedly
sometimes overlap. When this becomes apparent, some rear-
rangement of the data (records) will be necessary, that shall be
more in accord with the actual genetic relationships between
the sponges and the causal nature of their differences. Such
rearrangement, as we all know, has to be made from time to
time. Species are combined, or distinct (hereditary) races
within a species are distinguished, or marks that in the begin-
ning were assumed to be racial are found to be age- or seasonal-
or sex-marks, or the plain and simple results of a certain kind
of local environment. All this is especially applicable to very
inadequately known groups like the sponges, as it was equally
applicable in former years to groups that are now better known.
We must recognize, then, the necessity which is ever present
with the classifier, of rearranging from time to time his
categories.

In principle, systematists all agree with these ideas. Dif-
ference in actual practise comes in, however, when it is a ques-
tion of assigning a place to a particular sponge or kind of
sponge that has been described. Thus, to take an example,
while very generally Donatia ingalli and Donatia seychellensis,
the types of which differ noticeably in respect to the cortical
anatomy, are retained as distinct species, some writers make
them synonymous, viz., merge them. Of course, if in merging
species the lines and magnitude of variation represented by
particular races or strains (for so we may think of many litera-
ture species) are not lost sight of, no harm and often much
good is done. But the merging can easily be arbitrary and
artificial, as when only one or too few points of structure are
considered, and the differences are slurred over, in which case .
distinctive characters that have been carefully recorded for this
or that geographical region are lost sight of, and the process is
simply the retrogressive one of “lumping” species together.

When one speaks of a species as embodying a certain
character-combination, one may seem to be supporting the con-
tention of Bateson, Lotsy and some others, that races are
distinguished from one another as representing different com-
binations of germinal character-units, of units that have great
stability; units which, moreover, are conceived of as compara-
tively limited in number and countable; units which are trans-
ported unchanged hither and thither through individual bodies,
in the mazes of reproduction-cycles, combining, separating and

SPECIES AND SPONGES 351

recombining again to produce by concerted action what for-
merly they produced (phenomenon of reversion). And it is
-undeniable that if we assume enough such units, we can use the
hypothesis and possibly to advantage.

What is obvious, however, to the student of systematics and
geographical distribution, although it must be frankly con-
fessed that we are in the case of the sponges in great need of
the intensive study of critical instances, is that racial features
often vary up and down, apparently in response to the environ-
ment, in such a way as is possible only to easily alterable
species-plasms.

One comes to symbolize the latter after the fashion of chem-
istry as complexes of atoms, molecules and radicals. Change
in a complex may be pictured as due to the addition of more
molecules or more radicals of a certain composition, or to a
diminution in the number of such units. Or we may make the
picture of fewer units, and think only of radicals which lose
or gain atoms or simple molecules in response to environmental
(external or internal) conditions, to “stimuli” as we say in
physiological language. The radical thus varies up or down,
and with it the features of the resulting organism. The rays
of the small asters (chiasters) of Donatia, for instance, become
obviously spinose at the tip, or are so minutely spinose that the
fact is ascertainable only when an immersion objective is used,
or are not spinose at all. In such a case, whether the germinal
change be essentially one of a number of units, or quality of
larger units, a graded series results, a series of idioplasms, of
protoplasmic compounds, corresponding to the series of organ-
isms which the study of differences exhibited by individual
animals has led us to tabulate. The terms of such series actu-
ally in existence in nature at any one time may or may not be
numerous. It would, however, seem, arguing from our knowl-
edge that so many localities stamp with minute and yet distin-
guishable marks the individuals of a species living in such a
region, that they often are very numerous. But whether nu-
merous or few at any one time matters not. Artificial condi-
‘tions bring into existence terms of the series never seen before,
precisely as in the chemist’s laboratory. And what does not
exist to-day may come into existence in the future. Thus in
respect to any character a series exists ideally, the terms of
which are marked off from one another by minute, essentially
dimensional, differences. Particular, easily distinguishable,
terms of the series are recorded in systematics as among the

352 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

differential characteristics of species, when they occur with
great constancy in a group of individuals; or as marking out a
possible incipient species, when they occur only in some indi-
viduals, or when as in certain sponges they are represented
only by some spicules of some individuals.

It is clear that the distinct categories of systematics or any
classification, short of one that recognizes “ individual-plasms,”
make an artificial set of frames for such boundlessly variable
substances as are those that compose, let us say, the specks of
protoplasm constituting the germ cells that will give rise to the
organisms of the next generation.

It is no wonder, then, that although classifiers spend so
much time in defining, viz., characterizing, particular species,
no one can define the species-idea itself. Naturally this is so,
because the species-idea is not precise, that is, it is not a definite
complex of simple concepts, as was Linnzus’s idea of species.
The term stands only for a practical method of classifying
things, which makes use, or tries to make use, of kinship as
the chief guiding principle. Being of this practical character,
it is in a measure apart from and implicitly contradictory of,
our more precise physiological knowledge of nature, since its
usage implies (of course, only on the face of things) that or-
ganisms do fall according to hereditary constitution into pri-
mary, separate groups of like significance. Nevertheless, as
we all know, the employment of this practical rule, the species-
idea, is a habit which helps toward the accomplishment of the
great aims of biology, is indeed at present an indispensable
tool in biological research.

The species-idea being of this kind, there is, of course, no
definite number of species in the world, any more than there is
a definite number of facts which, when found out, will consti-
tute the perfect and closed book of a science. Reference is
sometimes made to-day by biological writers to Linnzean species
as if to groups of individuals that are qualitatively different
from the groups which for convenience sake we put together
under one name. Certainly the classifier of a group of organ-
isms, as he extends his survey through the world, finds no coun-
terpart in nature to an idea of a related set of individuals radi-
cally alike and radically different from all other sets.

What he finds is minute differences in the many times re-
peated, and superficially similar, structures of a single animal
(the case of a sponge spicule, e.g.), differences between the
individuals of a local race, and differences between groups of

SPECIES AND SPONGES 353

individuals from different localities. Whatever distinction there
is between individual (if hereditary) and specific differences, is
one of degree not of kind. This is a commonplace in our book of
principles, and has been since Darwin’s time.’ In the practise
of the systematist the race is only a form “sufficiently constant
and distinct from other forms to be capable of definition.”
And, as Darwin says,’ if we call it a species, it is only because
we regard its peculiarities as sufficiently important for the
group of individuals exhibiting them to deserve a specific name.

It is convenient, as I have said, to use chemical symbolism.
But what in the germ really underlies, what is the actual mate-
rial basis of the individual differences which mark off races and
species? Can we ever answer this question? Is it not simply
one of those that turn upon the nature of matter, which physio-
logical analysis of our sensations tells us need not, in strict
logic, exist? At any rate, the kind of problem which we appar-
ently can solve at the present stage of our mental development
is not such as deals with the structural peculiarity in the idio-
plasm of the germ cell, the something which, if it exists, we
may be allowed to call the final material cause of a character.
It is rather how to produce the character, how to start and
control the series of differentiations that lead up to its appear-
ance. Growth and differentiation of the substance of germ
cells and of tissues we certainly know something about, in the
sense that our knowledge of these matters is perceptual knowl-
edge and not symbolism, except in so far as all of our knowl-
edge of matter is, to be sure, only a set of deductions, drawn
from the interaction of ourselves and something which may or
may not, we do not know, be what we now think of as matter.
It is not misleading, it is not obscurantism, to point out that the
“architecture of the germ plasm” about which we hear a good
deal is for many (opinions differ—vide infra) a problem of a
different kind from that which deals with the classification of
germ plasms (idioplasms) on a basis of their perceptible prop-
erties, and with the laws that govern changes in these prop-
erties. These latter acquisitions of knowledge, although their
form of expression, viz., the grouping of the facts, must needs
be altered from time to time, rest on experience which repeats
itself demonstrably when we wish, whereas the ultimate struc-
ture of an idioplasm will most probably forever lie within the
field of symbolism. Such deductions follow after and fit them-

’

1Cf. “Origin of Species,’
2“ Origin,” p. 425.
VOL. vII.—23.

sixth American edition, p. 412.

354 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

selves to experiential knowledge. It is the generalized results
of the latter in the shape of comprehensive ideas or inductions,
that tell us what we should expect in a concrete case and so
lead to discovery. Beside these, theories as to the ultimate
structure of this or that kind of matter are comparatively bar-
ren. And such theories should, I think, be more distinctly
recognized for what they are, not over-rated and presented, as
sometimes happens in inferior texts, in the guise almost of
finalities, at any rate, as great, simple truths.

This feeling against the over-rating of theoretical explana-
tion, with its concomitant effect on research in tending to de-
velop the habit of substituting a partial conclusion drawn from
one class of fact, for a thorough, comparative investigation of
the phenomena, has been voiced in recent years by some of our
leading thinkers.* So over-rated is theory, so habituated do
we become to its use in school, university and public speech-
making, that, as we all know, it is deplorably common to find
those who can not, try as they will, state their facts objectively.
Such a schooling makes us all more or less inarticulate, except
when allowed to speak in terms of our hypotheses, a condition
which enormously increases the difficulty of ascertaining what
has really been discovered in a field outside one’s own. Goethe’s
verses, reading experience for Leben (although put in the
mouth of Mephistopheles), are as true to-day as they were at
the time of writing, when the imaginative portrayals by the
biological logicians of the eighteenth century as to what goes
on in development and inheritance, were so much nearer:

Grau, theurer Freund, ist alle Theorie,

Und griin des Lebens goldner Baum.
Finally, there is a question which all those who deal with the
peculiarities and the classification of natural races and species
do not answer in the same way. What place do the Mendelian
genes occupy in our schema of the physiology of organic change,
of the evolution of races? The gene is usually conceived as a
self-propagating and stable particle of the germ plasm, which
materially affects the sensible properties displayed by the’ or-
ganism into which a lump of such substance develops. It
affects, at least in the speculations of T. H. Morgan and similar
thinkers, not one but many such properties. The incorpora-
tion or loss of a gene is comparable to the incorporation or loss
of a radical in an ordinary (non-living) crganic compound.

3 Cf. W. K. Brooks passim and A. Agassiz in his presidential address
before the International Zoological Congress in 1907.

SPECIES AND SPONGES 355

In bi-sexual development corresponding genes repel one another
in such a way as to fall in different germ cells. With this latter
idea, the work of the systematist gives no familiarity, and I
therefore pass it by, remarking only that doubtless all the facts
of the inheritance of traits, even where there is great variation
in the offspring, can be brought into conformity with it, if we
adopt multiple-factor hypotheses and assume the presence in a
germ cell of many genes which cooperate toward the same end;
a whole block of such genes, perhaps, as in simple Mendelian
heredity, acting as a unit and repelling a corresponding block,
while under other circumstances the block is disorganized and
the separate genes act independently of one another, thus lead-
ing to a greater variety in the offspring, as in cases of “ blended
inheritance.” Or we may explain miscellaneous variation in
the offspring by using some other form of accessory hypothesis,
such as that which postulates the presence of primary character-
producing genes and of other secondary genes which determine
through their cooperation the degree in which the character is
developed.

Viewed in general as a component of the idioplasm, the gene
fits into our knowledge of the peculiarities that differentiate
races, and a place is provided for it in the chemical represen-
tation of a “species-plasm,” already referred to as a usable
concept, and which dates back at least as far as Haeckel’s
*‘Generelle Morphologie,” where such plasms are referred to as
“organic compounds.” It is, as several have pointed out, the
material representative of what we more usually call a heredi-
tary trait. The graded series, for instance, formed by related
idioplasms, in the Chalinide, for example, in which sponges the
skeletal fibers range from such as consist of many rows of
spicules with but little spongin, through term after term up to
fibers consisting only of spongin with no spicules, these graded
series, met everywhere in the sponges, are describable, as I
have said, in the terms of chemical symbolism. They are
equally describable in the language of the gene theory. In the
latter case, we picture genes, reserving speculation as to their
ultimate relation to the chemical structure of the germ plasm,
some for the production of spicules, some for the production of
spongin, each kind present in considerable number and all co-
operating to produce the fiber. Perhaps symbolism of this
kind will prove useful in lending precision to our thinking
when we come more widely in zoological work to the experi-
mental task of analyzing through the production of new forms,
the forces that bring about change in organisms.

356 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Are genes countable or not? Sometimes writers speak
as if they were. In the world of imagery, they undoubtedly
are in strict logic, just as atoms and molecules are countable on
the basis of certain premises in non-living substances. But
the hereditary properties to which they give rise, and which,
after all, as Castle in particular has emphasized, are the only
facts of which we have any (perceptual) knowledge, ere, as
every student of nature must admit, not countable, for as soon
as a new property has been discovered, it proves to be but a
door that opens to the discovery of still others.

The gene-idea is, as we all know, very commonly, although
by no means universally, linked up with chromosomes. And it
must be said that the linkage, if it really exists, in nature, car-
ries the idea quite out of the world of symbolism into that of
cellular physiology, the “architecture of the germ plasm” be-
coming then a real object for experimental study and not a
mere subject for logical imagery. But it will not do to forget
that the facts at least permit us, if they do not force us, as some
maintain, to look on the visible material particles (chromatin
masses), with which ‘‘characters” are associated (and the
progress of genetic and cytological researches seems unques-
tionably to show that such exist) not as determinants, but as
differentiations—as indeed the first conspicuous differentia-
tions that are made by the idioplasm in the course of the chains
of events which lead to the appearance of particular characters.
Viewed in this light, chromosomes lose that air of finality with
which the Weismannian philosophy has invested them, but re-
tain a very solid interest. Genes, however, recede into the
invisible.

The records that make up biology would be chaos without
systematics. Doubtless all will admit that much. Again, the
interest in discovering new forms of life, new races and species,
which is an essential part of systematics, is a basic factor in
revealing what Arthur Thomson calls the ‘‘ web of life,” the
complex of friendly and disastrous influences which species
exerts on species in the matter of living. What is not so gener-
ally realized is that the classifying spirit and method, which
works under comparatively simple conditions in systematics,
and finds therefore in this field a chance to grow, is something
that is needed in every branch of biology, if we do not wish to
remain content with very provisional and partial conclusions

SPECIES AND SPONGES 357

concerning the causes of phenomena, conclusions which some-
times succeed one another with a rapidity that dazzles and con-
fuses all but the few engaged in their manufacture. This is
only saying that science is nothing unless comparative. Sys-
tematics has, therefore, I believe, a great educational value.

But what direct significance have the results of systematics
for the study of the laws of change in the organic world? Sys-
tematics reveals, at least in sponges, that characters are inde-
pendently subject to variations such that in respect to any one
of them, individuals and races occur which form close series
between far distant extremes. Such series are found every-
where in the group. They are doubtless in a measure phylo-
genetic series, in which the terms bear to one another the rela-
tion of ancestral species and descendant. But the kaleidoscopic
combinations of characters displayed in many genera and fami-
lies indicate that this is not always the real relation. In these
instances, it would seem rather that the terms of the series rep-
resent only different degrees in the response to the environ-
mental stimuli, which related idioplasms have carried out inde-
pendently of one another. Systematics thus gives us all the
time hints, in some cases misleading perhaps, as to what species-
plasms can do, and as to the conditions under which such and
such a thing is done. It is a good guide to experiment, without
which the latter is apt to run off into vagaries.

358 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

IGNIS FATUUS

By Professor FERNANDO SANFORD
STANFORD UNIVERSITY

MONG the meteoric appearances which have puzzled man
A ever since he began to inquire into the relations of phe-
nomena and which are still unexplainable is the ignis fatwus,
jack-o’-lantern or will-o’-the wisp as it has been variously called.
Reference to this peculiar manifestation was much more fre-
quent in the writings of one hundred years ago than it is at the
present time and many people have come to think of it as a
purely imaginary phenomenon, belonging in the same class with
witches and fairies with which it is so frequently associated in
literature. While there are, no doubt, many fanciful and highly
colored accounts of this puzzling phenomenon, there are also
many well-authenticated records of its observance by men thor-
oughly competent to pass upon its reality. There is, however,
considerable divergence in the accounts of different observers,
and it does not seem improbable that unfamiliar lights of differ-
ent kinds have been classed under the same name.

Most observers speak of the ignis fatuwus as a flame. Thus
Benjamin Martin, in his ‘‘ Philosophical Grammar,” published
in 1758, says:

Ignis Fatuus, i. e., the foolish Fire or Jack in a Lanthorn, when a fat
unctuous vapour is kindled and wafted about by the motions of the Air,
near the Surface of the Earth, like a Light in a Lanthorn,
and most definitions since that time seem to have followed this
one as a pattern. However, Newton had long before distin-
guished between this light and a true flame. In the third book
of his ‘‘ Opticks’’ Newton propounds the following query:

The Jgnis Fatuus is a Vapour shining without heat, and is there not
the same difference between this Vapour and a Flame, as between rotten
Wood shining without heat and burning Coals of Fire?

In 1728, Mr. Derham, who had undertaken a special study
of ignis fatui, laid before the Royal Society a letter from Dr.
Giacomo Beccari, of Bologna, to whom he had written for in-
formation concerning these mysterious appearances. Beccari
says, in part:

What I am going to offer you, concerning these fiery appearances, is
the result of several conversations I had upon this subject with several

IGNIS FATUUS 359

experienced travellers, men of learning and reputation, whose sincerity I
had no reason to mistrust. For my own farther satisfaction, ever since
I received your commands, I have made it my business to speak with as
many as I could light of, with such as travelled much in the mountains,
and with others that observed them in plains, on purpose to see whether
or no the difference of the place made any sensible difference in the
appearance. I find upon the whole that they are pretty common in all the
territory of Bologna. To begin with the plains, they are very frequently
observed there; the country people call them Cularsi, probably from some
fancied resemblance to those birds; and because they look upon them as
birds, the belly and other parts of which are resplendent like our shining
flies. They are most frequent in watery and morassy grounds; and there
are some such places, where one may be almost sure of seeing them every
night, if it be dark. In the fields near the bridge Della Calcarata, in a
common, belonging to the parish of S. Maria in dono, north of Bologna,
one of these fiery appearances is very often observed to move across the
fields, coming from another bridge, called Della fossa quadra. There is
another of them in the fields of Bagnara, almost east of Bologna, which
searce ever fails to appear in dark nights; particularly when it rains or
snows; as also in cold and frosty weather: Both these, I mean that near
the bridge of Calcarata, and that in the fields of Bagnara, are very large;
and I am assured that sometimes their light is equal to that of one of our
ordinary faggots, or bundles made of vine-branches; and that it is scarce
ever less than that of the links which our country people make of hemp
stalks, and which they light themselves withal, when they travel in the
night. That at Bagnara appeared, not long since, to a Gentleman of my
acquaintance, as he was travelling that way; it kept him company for a
mile or better, constantly moving before him, and casting a stronger light
on the road, than the link he had with him.

I believe there may be several more in other plains, as large as these
two; tho’ at present I have not been able to get certain information of any
others. Lesser ones there appear a good many; some of them giving as
much light, as a lighted torch; and some are no bigger than the flame of a
common candle. Of these I have been assured a good many have been
observed in the fields of Barisella. All of them have the same property,
in resembling, both in colour and light, a flame strong enough to reflect a
lustre upon neighboring objects all round. They are continually in
motion; but this motion is various and uncertain. Sometimes they dis-
appear of a sudden, and appear again in an instant in some other place.
Commonly they keep hovering about six foot from the ground. As they
differ in largeness, so do they in figure, spreading sometimes pretty wide,
and then again contracting themselves. Sometimes breaking to all ap-
pearances into two, and a very little while after uniting again into one
body; sometimes floating like waves, and letting drop some parts, like
sparks out of a fire. I have been assured that there is no dark night all
the year round, in which they do not appear. And in the very middle of
winter, when the weather is very cold, and the ground covered with snow,
they are observed more frequently than in the hottest summer. The
Gentleman, who gave me an account of that at Bagnara, told me, that if
I had a mind to see it myself, I might be sure of finding it, if I went thither
in very cold weather; and in a sharp frost. Nor doth either rain nor
snow in any wise prevent or hinder their appearance; On the contrary,

360 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

they are more frequently observed, and cast a stronger light in rainy and
wet weather. This last circumstance, it is true, has been taken notice of
by some writers, and among the rest, if I remember right, by the learned
Gassendus. Nor does the wind much hurt them; tho’ one should think,
that if it were a burning substance, like common fire; it should either be
dissipated in windy weather, or extinguished by rain. But since they do
not receive any damage from wet weather; and since, on the other hand,
it hath never been observed, that anything was thereby set on fire; tho’
they must needs in their moving too and fro, meet with a good many com-
bustible substances; it may thence be very reasonably inferred, that they
have some resemblance to that sort of phosphorus, which doth, indeed,
shine in the dark; but doth not burn anything, as common fire doth:

* * * * * * * * * * * *

As to the appearance of this phenomenon in mountainous parts, by
what I have hitherto been able to learn, they differ in nothing else but in
largeness; and all those I conversed with, that saw them in the mountains,
agree that they never observed any larger than the flame of an ordinary
candle. Nor do those that live in the mountains call them cularsi, which
name is, perhaps, us’d only by the country people in the plains for those
large ones above described. The difference of the air, and that of the
soil, may, for ought I know, contribute a great deal towards the different
sizes of these appearances; at least all I can offer material at present
towards solving this particular circumstance, namely with regard to their
largeness, is, that those grounds where we observe the largest fires, as at
Bagnara, are what they here call strong ground (terreni forti) being a
hard, chalky and claiey soil, which will harbour the water a long while,
and is afterwards, in hot wether, very apt to break into large cracks and
fissures: Whereas on the contrary, those soils in the mountains, where
they observe the small fires, are what they call soft, or sweet ground
(terreni dolci) being generally sandy, and of a more loose contexture,
which do not keep the water so long as the others. Of that sort also is
the soil in the above mentioned plains of Barisella, where about 7 or 8
years before, they observed a good many of the smallest ignes fatui in the
fields within the compass of about 3 miles.

The above excerpts from Beccari’s letter probably give the
best second-hand information available at that time to one who
was interested in science and who lived in a region noted for
the frequency of the phenomena under consideration. They
seem to show that there were at that time regions where these
luminous appearances were of frequent occurrence and of large
size. They seem to show also that the people who were familiar
with them recognized a difference between them and a true
flame.

Alexander von Humboldt also calls attention to this distinc-
tion. He says that in Cumana, Venezuela, flames are frequently
seen at night which are visible at a great distance, but which do
not set fire to the dry grass. In most cases, at least, they seem
to give off neither heat nor odor.

The one recorded observation which the present writer has

IGNIS FATUUS 361

been able to find in which the observer claims to have shown
that this light was a real flame is quoted in Poggendorff’s
Annalen from the Italian Annali di fisica, etc., of 1841. The
article is in the form of a notice from Dr. Quirico Barilli Filo-
panti, of Bologna. Filopanti begins by referring to a statement
which was made to him by the painter, Onofro Zanotti that
while passing along a street a fiery ball with the appearance of
a flame rose from between the stones of the street near his feet,
passed so near him that he could feel the heat on his face, and
then very quickly disappeared. Filopanti became greatly inter-
ested in the narration and determined to try to see one of these
lights for himself. He accordingly spent many evenings watch-
ing for the phenomenon, especially in the neighborhood of
church yards, which he was informed were favorable places for
seeing them. He says that his vigils were rewarded by the
sight of three. Of these he says:

The first was one of those which come out of the earth, rise to a cer-
tain height and then suddenly disappear. I can say little more of this
than that it rose rapidly to a height of three or four meters and then dis-
appeared with a faint report.

The second was carried by the wind horizontally, and was followed by
me for some distance, when it was carried over the water of the Idice and
then disappeared.

The third gave Filopanti an opportunity to test whether it
was a real flame. He states that after watching for several
evenings in a place said to be favorable to the appearance of
these lights, at a place where hemp was being rotted in a small
brook near a church, he went into a peasant’s house one evening
to take shelter from the rain, which was falling. While watch-
ing from a window, he saw the wished-for light, and seizing a
long rod with some tow on the end, which he had prepared for
the occasion, he ran out and approached the light. He described
it as a smoky flame, about a decimeter in diameter, which was
moving slowly from south to north. As he approached it, it
began to rise, but he was able to thrust his tow into it and see
it ignite. Very soon afterward the light went out. He says
that the burning tow gave a faint odor which was not like phos-
phorus, but which seemed to him to be of a sulphurous char-
acter with some odor of ammonia.

In Volume 41 of Poggendorff’s Annalen is a notice taken
from Comptes Rendus which says:

On Sunday, Dec. 22, 1839, between five and nine o’clock in the evening,
by mild and rainy weather, phosphorescent flames were seen to rise from

slimy pools in the streets of Fontainebleau. These flames, when they rose
from the water gave off a “ crépitation”’ and wherever they were seen the

362 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

air was permeated with a strong odor of phosphorus. When the water
from which the flames rose was stirred, it became phosphorescent.

This appearance, though classed under the head of ignis
fatuus, was apparently quite a different phenomenon from those
generally observed, as was the flame described by Filopanti.

A quite different description of an observation of these
strange lights is given by the astronomer Bessel in a letter to
the editor of Poggendorff’s Annalen which was probably called
out by the above notice. Bessel describes the observations
which he made from a skiff on a small stream which flowed
through a peat marsh as follows:

These appearances were observed by me on Dec. 2, 1807, early in the
morning, on a very dark and calm night during which, from time to time,
a gentle rain fell. They consisted of numerous little flames which ap-
peared over ground which was covered in many places with standing
water and which after they had glowed for a time disappeared. The color
of these flames was somewhat bluish, similar to the flame of the impure
hydrogen which is prepared by the action of dilute sulphuric acid on iron.
Their luminosity must have been insignificant, since I could not observe
that the ground under one of them was illuminated nor that the great
numbers of them which frequently appeared at the same time produced a
noticeable brightness. A closer estimate of their brightness I can not
make, since the darkness of the night made my estimates of the distances
of the flames very uncertain. Some of them, which seemed brighter than
others, were estimated to be not more than fifteen or twenty steps distant,
but this estimate is necessarily insecure.

As regards the number of flames which were visible at one time and
as regards the period of their burning I can not speak with certainty,
since both conditions were quite variable. I can only estimate as some
hundreds the number visible at a time, and a quarter of a minute as the
average period of their luminosity.

The flames frequently remained quiet in one position, and at other
times they moved about horizontally. When motion occurred, numerous
groups of the flames seemed to move together. I remember that one of
the groups of flames suggested the moving of flocks of water birds.

Bessel describes the place where these observations were
made as over a peat bog along a small brook. Much of the bog
was covered with pits from which peat had been taken out, and
pools of water stood in these depressions. It was over these
pools that the lights appeared. He says that the boatman who
was with him in the skiff, and who frequently carried peat
through this marsh in the night, did not regard the appearance
as at all unusual.

A similar observation to Bessel’s was reported to the mete-
orologist Dove by Schulrath Looff, of Gotha. The observations
in question were made by a student for whom Looff vouches.
This student, Theodor List, was walking by night on a road

IGNIS FATUUS 363

along the vailey of the Fulda. The observation was described
by List in part as follows:

The valley of the Fulda was covered by a heavy white fog, and a
strong moldy smelling vapor filled the air. Suddenly, I saw a little flame
scarcely two steps from me at the side of the road. I thought I must be
deceived, but the moon was shining brightly and I was broad awake. To
satisfy myself, I started toward the light, but when scarcely a foot dis-
tant it disappeared. But not a second had passed until I saw another,
then a second, three, four, others. All the little flames remained quiet in
one place and neither leaped nor danced. I observed that if the lights were
not to disappear I must approach them very quietly, taking care not to
set the air about them in motion. When I was very careful, I was often
so fortunate as to bend over the little flames and observe their color and
form at a distance of not more than a foot and a half. They were little
flames of the size of a hen’s egg, and they stood very quietly between the
blades of grass. They were mostly of a greenish white light, and were
fairly bright. I was able to seize some of them in my hand, but no heat
was to be detected. If I waved a finger near them they disappeared at
once. Many of them disappeared with a faint report, such as is made by
the ignition of a bubble of phosphuretted hydrogen. Still, I must say that
the air remained perfectly quiet.

A single flame seldom lasted longer than a minute and a half. The
moon shone so brightly that I was able to read the dial of my watch. I
could not have been deceived, for I observed the phenomenon very care-
fully and accurately. My eyes were completely clear, for I observed other
objects about me and saw no lights between me and them.

A similar observation was reported by Galle as having been
made by one of his students, Herr Vogel, of Leipzig. Vogel re-
ports having seen Irrlichter twice, once along the marshy shores
of a pond near Kamenz, and later just outside of Leipzig. The
latter observations were made over a tract of marshy ground
which received the drainage from some of the streets of the
city, and through which a cut had recently been made by the
Leipzig-Dresden Railway. The lights were seen in this railway
cut. Vogel says:

After waiting for some time, I saw a faint light in the railway cut
and observed a little flame about as bright as the vapor which is given
off by a gently rubbed phosphorus match and very similar to this. This
little flame disappeared very quickly, and after perhaps three seconds ap-
peared again in the same place, and disappeared as before. I observed
the phenomenon from a very close distance for several minutes without
observing any odor. Likewise, I saw no smoke. The ditch was not filled
with water, but its bottom was slimy. The little flames glowed about
three inches above this slimy bottom, and were prehaps an inch high. The
appearance was exactly similar to that which I had observed at Kamenz,
only in that case the lights were much more numerous, so that it gave the
appearance of the moon shining on rippling water.

Vogel states that the flames did not resemble those of spon-
taneously igniting phosphine, or of burning marsh gas.

364 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A very different appearing ignis fatwus is described by
Knorr, professor of physics at Kieff, as having been seen by
him while a student at Berlin. Knorr describes two observa-
tions of these lights in his childhood, both of which correspond
to the descriptions given by Bessel and List. The third seems
to have been of quite a different character. This one, Knorr
observed by the roadside at night where a bridge crossed a
swampy stream. The light appeared in the grass over the
marsh, and less than a foot beyond his reach when he lay on the
ground. On account of the swampy nature of the bottom he
feared to step into the marsh, but he lay near the light and ob-
served it for a long time, passing his walking stick through it,
and finally holding its ferule in the flame for fifteen minutes
without it becoming appreciably warmed. He describes the
light as of cylindrical form, perhaps five inches high and one
and a half inches in diameter, standing quietly among the
leaves of the marsh grass. He saw no smoke and observed no
odor and the leaves of plants which were in the cylinder of
light showed no signs of combustion. He describes the light as
being bright enough to bring out plainly the surrounding
foliage, though the night was very dark. The light did not seem
to be easily disturbed by the movements of the air near it, and
persisted until Knorr went on his way and left it.

Numerous other accounts of the appearance of these strange
lights are probably familiar to the readers of this article, and
many of them are, no doubt, of a fanciful character. Before
the extensive draining of marshes over the earth, when these
lights were more numerous than at the present time, they were
regarded with superstitious fear by many of the people who
most frequently saw them, and their accounts of them are, no
doubt, frequently colored by this fear. One form of this super-
stition is shown in the name “ corpse candle,”’ which was applied
to these lights in some localities.

Apparently different kinds of lights have been observed at
different times. Certainly, the smoky flame described by Filo-
panti was quite different from the little clouds of luminous
vapor described by Bessel, List, Vogel and Knorr. The present
writer, when a child, was told by his father of lights which the
latter had seen over a peaty pond in Ohio, and his description
was similar to that given by Bessel, except that the observed
lights were very few in number.

These little vaporous clouds seem to possess none of the
characteristics of a flame of any kind. They are frequently
spoken of as some kind of an electrical glow, and for the same

IGNIS FATUUS 365

reason that many other phenomena which we can not explain
are guessed to be electrical in their nature. However, the con-
ditions under which these lights are seen are as far as possible
from any under which an electrical glow is known to exist.

To the present writer, there seems but one probable expla-
nation of these obscure phenomena, and that is that they are
little swarms of luminous bacteria which are carried up from
the bottom of the marsh by rising bubbles of gas. Many kinds
of luminous bacteria are known and the marshes from which
these lights arise are known to be the favored habitat of some
of these kinds. Some, at least, of these bacteria do not become
luminous until exposed to the oxygen of the air. This seems to
be true of the bacteria which cause the luminosity of rotten
wood, the “fox fire” of our boyhood.

In Volume 2 of Nicholson’s Journal is described a rather
extensive series of experiments by Nathaniel Hulme on lumi-
nous wood, fish, etc., in various gases. Hulme found that only
air or gases from which oxygen could be derived would support
the luminosity. It could be completely quenched in hydrogen,
but after several hours immersion in this gas it would appear
again if exposed to air or oxygen. Certain it is that bubbles of
marsh gas and carbon dioxide gas are almost continuously
rising from peaty marshes. The former, being lighter than
air would carry its colony of bacteria rapidly upward until they
were dissipated by diffusion. The latter, being heavier than
air, would remain for sometime near the surface of the water,
and would diffuse into the air much more slowly. Whatever
would set up a circulation in the water would tend to dislodge
these gas bubbles with their charges of bacteria from the bot-
tom. Was not Newton probably right in his suggestion that
there is “the same difference between this Vapour and Flame
as between rotten wood shining without heat and burning
Coals of Fire”?

366 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

LINKAGES

By FRANK V. MORLEY
THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

HISTORICAL study of linkages starts with the work of
A James Watt, although the pantagraph and lazy-tongs,
both familiar cases of simple linkworks, were known at least
as early as the seventeenth century. In his improvements
upon the steam-engine the Scottish engineer found it necessary
to guide the piston-rod in a straight line, and yet to communi-
cate its motion to the circular movement of the working-beam.
A diagram of his invention of the purpose is shown in Figure 1;
the combination of three links provided an approximate recti-
linear motion whose “sweet simplicity’ was astonishing when
contrasted to the double chains or racks and sectors which it
replaced. In a letter to his son upon the subject he concludes,
“Though I am not over anx-
ious after fame, yet I am more
proud of the parallel motion
than of any other mechanical
invention I have ever made.’’!!
Such praise from Watt is
praise indeed; his interest in
link motions was a lasting
one, and he spent the later
years of his long and splendid
| life in perfecting a machine

Fic. 1. WArt’s PARALLEL MOTION. for copying sculptures, a sort

of pantagraph in space, which
was to act with all the “delicate smoothness” of the parallel
motion.

It was in the “latter end of 1783” that Watt devised the
application to the steam-engine, but, in spite of the fact that it
was almost universally used, very few adaptations or other
combinations of links for the conversion of motion were tried
for many years. Examples of Watt’s parallelogram were
given by engineering writers, such as the famous and influ-

1See D. H. Leavens, Am. Math. Monthly, Vol. 22, 1915, p. 331. He

quotes from J. P. Muirhead, “ Life of James Watt,” New York, Appleton,
1859, p.242. The reference to the second edition (London, 1859) is p. 288.

LINKAGES 367

ential Frenchman, Prony,? but no comprehensive investigation
was made until the middle of the nineteenth century, when the
impulse came from the University of St. Petersburg.

In 1847 Pafnouty Lvovitch Tchebychef obtained a position
at the University of St. Petersburg, and became able to indulge
somewhat an interest he had pursued from a child,*® the con-
struction of mechanisms and models of his own invention. In
the vacation of 1852 he took a trip through Western Europe to
visit factories, to see different types of mechanisms and, most
of all, to study Watt’s parallel motion; towards the close of the
summer he crossed the Channel to pay his respects to Cayley
and Sylvester, and to Gregory the engineer. In London,
Tchebychef hunted up some of Watt’s original machines, pre-
served in the Royal Polytechnic Institute, and satisfied his in-
quiry by measuring the lengths of all accessible parts, and
studying the details of the various arrangements.

On his return to Russia Tchebychef devoted a large part of
his time and enthusiasm to the question of providing an analyti-
cal method for handling such motions as that of Waitt’s paral-
lelogram. Recognizing the advantages of a geometrical insight
into such motions, he nevertheless regretted the difficulty of
a geometrical grasp of the subject, and for himself preferred
methods of analysis. His own methods were remarkably clever,
if somewhat prolix; and they enabled him to devise new mo-
tions whose deviations from a straight line were given in terms
of arbitrary constants of the linkwork, and which were so in-
considerable as to be within the limits of mechanical accuracy.

But although these approximations may have been satisfac-
tory from the point of view of mechanical motion, they were by
no means a Sufficient solution of the problem of drawing an
exactly straight line. To accomplish this Tchebychef’s anal-
ysis was unavailing. So far three links had been employed in
every model, and the curve traced by points upon the traversing
bar was beginning to be studied, a sextic of an analytically
unattractive appearance. If was hardly likely that a five-bar
linkwork, or a more complicated model, would produce a more
simple result. Indeed, for more than three links Tchebychetf’s
analysis grew so involved that a linear solution was extremely

2“ Nouvelle Architecture Hydraulique,” 1796, t. 2, p. 123. See Muir-
head, second edition, p.261. The terms “ parallel motion” and “ parallelo-
gram,” though not at all descriptive, are used throughout the early litera-
ture, and may therefore be retained here.

8 A biographical sketch is given in Oeuvres de P. L. Tchebychef, St.

Petersburg, t. 2 (1907), pp. i-vi, and his account of the trip, pp. vii-xix.
(Cf. Leavens, loc. cit.)

368 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

improbable; and when he became certain that no three-bar
motion could trace a straight line, he is said to have considered
it impossible to produce rectilinear motion by any linkwork.*

But in this result the eminent Russian scientist decided
“with less than his usual success in overcoming difficulties in-
superable to the rest of the world,” and it seems as though the
spirit of science was merely waiting for this confession of ina-
bility to bring to men’s attention the simplicity of the true
solution. The first rectilinear motion by linkages was invented
by Lieutenant Peaucellier, a young French officer of engineers
detailed for the moment, and possibly with consequent leisure,
to staff duty; a subsequent discovery was made by L. Lipkin,
a freshman at the University of St. Petersburg, who was study-
ing mechanics under Professor Tchebychef. Peaucellier’s dis-
covery was made about 1864, Lipkin’s in 1870; and an inter-
esting fact is that, although the two were independent, their
methods and linkworks were precisely the same.

The linkwork of Peau-
x cellier and Lipkin jumps
from three to seven links.
There are first of all two
long links of equal length,
both pivoted to the same
fixed point; their other ex-
tremities are pivoted to op-
posite angles of arhombus
composed of four equal
shorter links, as shown
in’ Migs 2s (They porien
of the linkage so far de-
scribed is the essential
part, and is called Peau-
cellier cell; by means of a
seventh and extra link the
cell is made to move so that the free end of the rhombus de-
scribes an accurately straight line.

The reasoning to prove this is very simple and depends
upon a fundamental property of geometrical inversion. It is
evident that whatever shape and position the linkage assumes,
the points O, P, Q will always be on a line; and if N be the in-
tersection of the diagonals of the rhombus,

Hie. 2.

+See J. J. Sylvester, “On Recent Discoveries in Mechanical Conver-
sion of Motion,” Proc. Roy. Inst., Vol. VII., pp. 181 and 188, footnotes.

LINKAGES 369

OA? = ON? 4+ AN?
AQ? = QN? + AN?
so that
OA? — AQ? = ON? — QN?
— (ON — QN) (ON + QN)
—OP.0Q

Hence if O is pivoted to a fixed base, since OA and AQ are the
constant and arbitrary lengths of the links, the product

OP-OQ = constant

so that whatever the shape of the cell, P and Q are inverse
points with respect to a circle whose center is at O; and what-
ever curve P is made to trace, its inverse curve will be traced
by Q.

So stated, the remainder of the problem is not difficult; for
if we want Q to trace a line, an easy way will be to make P trace
a circle passing through O, since the inverse of any circle
through the center of inversion is a line. Hence the extra link,
pivoted to P and to a fixed point S whose distances from O and
P are equal. Then any motion of the linkwork will cause P
to move on a circle through O, and Q will move along a line.

This pretty solution of the problem of rectilinear motion
was published by Peaucellier in 1864; unfortunately not in a
complete form, but merely as an announcement in the Nowvelles
Annales for that year; and coming as it did from an unrecog-
nized person in an unorthodox way it was ‘successfully con-
cealed under a wrong entry.” At any rate, the little announce-
ment was quite overlooked by those interested, until six years
later when the work was duplicated by the Russian student.
Then Professor Tchebychef’s admiration for the work of his
pupil, although it confuted his own analysis, secured for Lipkin
a handsome reward from the Russian Government. Tcheby-
chef’s enthusiasm communicated the results to his friends in
France and England, and the stock in linkages rose. The hith-
erto unrecognized Peaucellier, now a colonel in command at
Toul, was exhumed from his dugouts and awarded the famous
“Prix Montyon” of the Institute of France; and it appears
that the two young men who are here linked together for their
independent yet similar abilities, were similarly sated by suc-
cess, for neither Peaucellier nor Lipkin is again heard of in the
history of science.

But if the younger men were resting quietly upon their
laurels, their work was seized upon with complimentary rapid-
ity by men of more maturity and standing; and at this juncture

VOL. vil.—24.

370 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the London school of mathematics became interested in the re-
sults which had hitherto been confined to engineers, and mostly
obtained upon the continent. In 1869 Samuel Roberts sug-
gested the connection between geometry and linkages in a paper
read before the society ““On the Mechanical Description” of
certain curves.°

Mr. Roberts chose as his text the saying of Newton, “At
zequatio non est; sed descriptio, quae curvam Geometricam
efficit,’’ and considered that “‘in the present state of the theory
of quartic and cubic curves, it is very desirable that we should
be able to draw them continuosuly.” He cited the classic ex-
amples of Nicomedes’ Trammel for drawing the conchoid, New-
ton’s method for the cissoid, and Pascal’s for the limacon. By
generalizing these methods some interesting results were ob-
tained; and among the more important results was the fact that
Cayley became interested in the drawing of curves, and began
a discussion of the three-bar curve, or the curve traced by any
three-bar linkwork such as that of Watt.

The time was ripe for the introduction of Peaucellier’s mo-
tion into England, and perhaps the dramatic way in which it
was rediscovered by Lipkin had something to do with the in-
terest it aroused. Consider the effect of a sincere statement by
an eminent man that it was impossible to convert circular into
rectilinear motion, a statement, by the way, which was con-
fused by many with the squaring of the circle; and when this
noted man had been for some time buried in a mass of compu-
tation to prove his point, a timid freshman raps upon the door,
presenting to his eyes the thing itself, and not the proof of its
impossibility. It was very likely this paradoxical entrance
that pleased Sylvester. At any rate, Sylvester took up the in-
vention with enthusiasm, enlisted Professor Henrici’s services
to procure him models, and at the annual general meeting of
the London Mathematical Society in 1873 he gave a talk which
was, by the secretary’s account, “warmly applauded.’ Fol-
lowing that, he made a well-known address‘ at the Royal Insti-
tute to a more general audience; and the enthusiasm with which
that facile scientist spoke upon the subject to every one he met
played a great part in its popularity, and the practical applica-
tion which he foretold lent to it a specious importance.

The interest which Sylvester himself took in linkages is well

5S. Roberts, Proc. Lond. Math. Soc., Vol. 2, 1869, p. 125.

6 Proc. Lond. Math. Soc., Vol. 5, p. 4.

7J. J. Sylvester, “ On Recent Discoveries in Mechanical Conversion of
Motion,” Proc. Roy. Inst., Vol. 7, p. 179; or “ Collected Works,” Vol. 3, p. 7.

LINKAGES 371

attested by the address mentioned above; taken down by the
secretary, it was probably given to the speaker for annotation;
and when returned to the secretary for publication it had con-
siderably more than five times as much in the footnotes as in
the text, with a postscript superadded. In this postscript were
included his “kinematical paradox” for representing a con-
stant as a kinematical function of the independent variable, and
several schemes for representing crystallographic and atomic
groupings by means of linkages. ‘It would be difficult to quote
any other discovery,” he writes, ‘which opens out such vast
and varied horizons as this of Peaucellier—in one direction, as
has been shown, descending to the wants of the workshop, the
simplification of the steam-engine, the revolutionizing of the
millwright’s trade, the amelioration of garden-pumps, and
other domestic convenience (the sun of science glorifies all it
shines upon), and in the other soaring to the sublimest heights
of the most advanced doctrines of modern analysis, lending aid
to, and throwing light from a totally unsuspected quarter on
the researches of such men as Abel, Rieman, Clebsch, Grass-
man, and Cayley. Its head towers above the clouds, while its
feet plunge into the bowels of the earth.’’*

Although Sylvester’s words read rather like an advertise-
ment than sober science, his enthusiasm was adopted by many
round him and the models were admired by many more. He
showed a model of Peaucellier’s cell to Sir William Thomson,
and according to Sylvester the canny Scot “nursed it as if it
had been his own child, and when a motion was made to relieve
him of it, replied, ‘No! I have not had nearly enough of it—it
is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.’”’® Con-
sidering the extraordinary conversions worked with the model,
Sylvester considered that ‘it would not be unsuitable to write
in letters of gold on the board attached to it which gives sup-
port to the two frail centers, the famous motto of Constantine
—‘In hoc signo vinces.’ ”’ .

With Sylvester pushing the subject from one side and Cay-
ley from the other, the interest in linkages could not fail to be
keen, and many other men were drawn to the subject; A. B.
Kempe and Harry Hart in England, Lemoine and Brocard on
the continent, Woolsey Johnson in America, and an even more
notable trio, Darboux, Clifford and G. H. Darwin. Within ten
years close to one hundred and fifty papers had been published

8 Sylvester, loc. cit., p. 195. His spelling, Rieman and Grassman, is

preserved.
® Sylvester, loc. cit., p. 183.

372 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in recognized journals;'® and if a curve is plotted as in Fig. 3
to show how many papers were published every year, as an
indication of the interest, such a curve would show a remark-
able rise during 1874, and its culmination reached in 1875 with
thirty-six articles published in that year. The rapid rise of

the curve is no more remarkable than its sudden fall; and the
shape in general is typical of an explosive epidemic, due to
powerful causes, and rapidly running its course to a conclusion.

Peaucellier’s motion was introduced by Sylvester into Eng-
land in 1873, and many up to date mechanics seized upon the
principle. Some circular steps outside St. Paul’s Cathedral
were so worn as to require repair, and the surveyor used a cell,
adjusted to circular instead of rectilinear motion, to cut the
templets; and though the radius of the steps was about forty
feet, the cell operated “‘to the great. comfort and delectation of
his clerk” with a link some six feet long.'' It was, by the way,
this same surveyor whose pump was “ameliorated” by Peau-
cellier’s principle. And a little later came the classic example
which all students of linkages quote, the application of the mo-
tion to the air engines which ventilate the House of Parliament.

10V. Liguine, Bull. Sci. Math., 2d series, Vol. 7, 1883, p. 145, gives a

bibliography of 151 papers up to 1882.
11 Sylvester, Proc. Roy. Inst., loc. cit., p. 182.

LINKAGES 373

In August of 1874 Harry Hart of Woolwich Academy dis-
proved Tchebychef’s last entrenchment’ by showing that Peau-
cellier’s cell of six links could be replaced by a new linkage of
only four bars. Hart’s linkage was obtained by crossing the
links of an ordinary jointed parallelogram, as in Fig. 4, form-

ing what is called a contra-parallelogram. Then the four mid-
points'* have exactly the properties of the points of a Peaucel-
lier cell to which two long links have been added for symmetry ;
and it follows that a five-bar rectilinear motion may be pro-
duced from Hart’s contra-parallelogram by the addition of an
extra link."

So far linkages had been studied from an experimental
standpoint, as arrangements of a certain number of rods and
pivots; but about this time Samuel Roberts suggested that in-
stead of considering the motion of jointed rods it would be
better to consider the motion of the planes associated with
those rods, for the order of the path-curves would not thereby
be increased. Sylvester then substituted the more general idea

12 Techebychef stated the impossibility of five-bar rectilinear motion,
even after Peaucellier’s discovery was known. See Sylvester, loc. cit.,
p. 181.

13 Or any points whose ratio AO: OB is constant.

14 A different and pretty five-bar linkwork for drawing a straight line
was given by M. Raoul Bricard in 1895 [Comptes Rendus, 120, p. 69], but
as not related to the general story of the epidemic it is not included here.

374 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of the relative, as distinguished from the absolute, motion of
plane upon plane; a conception which is fruitful in indicating
that link-motion may be reduced to the rolling of centrodes.’°

In studying the ordinary three-bar motion it had occurred

Kig. 5. PANTAGRAPH.

to Kempe'® to consider what happened when the traversing bar
and one of the radial bars had changed places, and the conclu-
sion reached without difficulty was that the order in which the
bars are chosen does not affect the shape of the path-curve. If,
in Fig. 5, OC, CB, BS be the original three bars, and P a point
on the traversing bar tracing a certain curve; then if the two
bars OA, equal to CB, and AB, equal to OC, are added, and Q

is on AB such that
XMS IO) == O}S (CO)

« will trace a curve similar in shape and position to that traced
by P, but enlarged in the fixed ratio. And if the bars OC and
CB are taken away there remains a three-bar linkwork which
is the same as the old except that the radial link and the trav-
ersing link are interchanged. This was remarked by Sylvester
as a most acute and admirable theorem; but is also, as Cayley

15 See Sylvester, ‘“‘ History of the Plagiograph,”’ Nature, Vol. 12, 1875,
p. 214, footnote.

16 A. B. Kempe, “ How to Draw a Straight Line,” London, Macmillan,
1877, p. 20; Sylvester, loc. cit., p. 215.

LINKAGES 379
observed when Sylvester consulted him, a self-evident deduc-
tion from the principle of the ordinary pantagraph.

The result obtained by Kempe, when communicated to Syl-
vester, was immediately seen by the latter to be extensible to
the case of three-piece motion, where the bars are replaced by
their planes; and Sylvester’s skew pantagraph or “ plagio-
graph” is obtained by making P and Q similarly situated in the

P

Fic. 6. PLAGIOGRAPH.

planes of CB and AB, as by making the triangles CPB and AQB
similar, in Fig. 6. Then P and Q trace curves which are simi-
lar, but turned through a fixed angle.

It is a natural conclusion that the principle of the plagio-
graph might be applicable to Hart’s contra-parallelogram, and
both Kempe and Sylvester, the one “by the free play of his
vivacious geometrical imagination,” the other ‘‘ by the sure and
fatal march of algebraical analysis,’ found that if a chain of
similar triangles be attached to the four links, the free vertices
will form a parallelogram whose angles are invariable and
whose area is constant. For instance, to use the same lettering
in Fig. 7 as in Fig. 4, if O, P, Q, R are the vertices of isosceles
right triangles fixed to the bars AB, BC, AD, CD, then OPQR
is always a rectangle of constant area. The linkage is, by Syl-
vester’s name, a “ quadruplane.”’

The quadruplane affords much light upon three-bar motion,
which results when any one plane is held fixed. If, for exam-
ple, AB is fixed, then J will be the instantaneous center, and

AI+ BI=BI+CI=BC, a constant,

376 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

so that the point J describes upon the fixed plane an ellipse of

A

i Se i

Fic. 7. QUADRUPLANE.

which A, B are the foci and BC the length of the major axis.
In a similar manner
CI DI=DA

and the locus of J on the moving or traversing plane CD is an
equal and similar ellipse. Hence the relative motion of the two
opposite planes AB, CD, is that produced by the rolling of two
equal and similar ellipses.

The two planes BC, AD have their instantaneous center at
K; the trace of K upon the plane BC is given by

BC — CN = BN — AN =BA,

an hyperbola, and its trace upon the plane AD is an equal and
similar hyperbola. It follows that the free motion of the quad-
ruplane, or the relative motion of four planes so linked, reduces
to the double rolling of two ellipses and two hyperbolas.

This conception of three-bar curves being produced by the
rolling of two equal conics shows that the particular quartics
produced are related to the inverses of conics, and simplifies the
discussion considerably ; and in broad terms this represents the
state of knowledge of three-bar motion through the middle of

LINKAGES 377

1875, when Sylvester had published an article in Nature. In
November of that year Samuel Roberts made an important ob-
servation in the theory of three-bar motion proper, or the
motion of three links about two fixed pivots. Noticing that the
pivoted points turn up as singular foci in the discussion of the
sextic path-curves, and that there are three foci to the sextic,
he suggested that the two pivots might be placed at any two of
the three foci, and by means of links of suitable lengths the
same locus would be obtained. In other words, any path de-
scribed by a point moving with three-bar motion may also be
described in two other ways by three-bar motion."

Whatever the merits of Mr. Roberts per se—and this obser-
vation was singularly acute—he seems to have had the impor-
tant ability to interest Professor Cayley; and once again Cay-
ley was led to an investigation of three-bar curves by a consid-
eration of Roberts’s results. In March of 1876 he put the
above theorem into the following elegant form.'* Take any
triangle ABC and through any point O within it draw lines AF,
EH, GD parallel to the sides. Let the triangles HKO, GOF,
ODE be supposed rigid and jointed together at O, and let the
other lines in the figure represent bars forming three jointed
parallelograms, as shown in Fig. 8. Then however the system
is moved about in its plane the triangle ABC will always be of
the same shape; and further, that starting from any given posi-
tion of the three triangles, the linkage may be so moved as not
to alter the triangle ABC in magnitude; so that when the three
points A, B, C are fixed in any other than their maximum posi-
tion, the point O will still remain movable. In so moving, O
will describe a path which is due at the same time to three dif-
ferent three-bar motions.

These pretty results were proved by Cayley with a some-
what forbidding nomenclature, and Clifford, who usually sat
in the back of the room and said little at the meetings of the
society, gives a very much simpler discussion in his “ Kine-
matic.’”® But the two papers which Cayley read at this time
contain much information on the three-bar curve; and, though
they by no means say the last word upon the subject, no further
word was said for quite a time. For reference once more to
Fig. 3 will show that in 1876 the interest in linkages had passed
its climacteric, and that the number of papers published and

17S. Roberts, Proc. Lond. Math. Soc., Vol. 7, p. 17.

18 Cayley, Proc. Lond. Math. Soc., Vol. 7, 1876, p. 136; ef. Clifford,
“ Kinematic,” p. 149.

19 Clifford, loc. cit. Curiously enough, the same simplification was
- published as original by Hart [Camb. Mess. Math., Vol. 12, 1882, p. 32],
while Clifford’s “ Kinematic,” surely a widely read book, came out in 1878.

we
~!
9 6)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

new results obtained was rapidly diminishing. One stopping
point upon the downward course occurred when Kempe proved
the rather remarkable theorem that any algebraic curve what-
ever can be described by a linkwork, and his analysis is as beau-
tiful as his result is elegant.?° But after that the enthusiasm
fell as fast as it had risen, and the epidemic, as far as history
is concerned, was over.

Sir William Osler quotes Sidney Smith as saying, it is not
the man who first says a thing, but it is he who says it so long,
so loudly, and so clearly that he compels men to hear him—it is
to him that the credit belongs; and so far as this singular epi-
demic of linkages is concerned, the credit for its existence be-
longs to Sylvester. It was through his efforts that other great
minds turned to the subject; and indeed, the subject is made
more interesting than many other offshoots of science only by
the notable character of its contributors. And it may be more
than a coincidence that the epidemic failed just at the time
when Sylvester became involved in building up a new depart-
ment in another land. The students at the Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity were interested in other lines, and though there are
several papers on linkages in the American Journal of Mathe-
matics, there are none of great importance. In England, Cay-
ley and Kempe were diverted to map-coloring and the study of
groups; of the younger men, Darwin found another line more
suited to his taste, and the incomparable Clifford died before
we had a chance to learn what he might have done. With the
loss of the contributions of these leaders the first chapter of a
study of linkages may close.

20 Kempe, Proc. Lond. Math. Soc., Vol. 7, 1876, p. 213.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 379

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

LORD RAYLEIGH

THE death of John William Strutt,
third Baron Rayleigh, closes a career
of remarkable scientific distinction
and may mark the ending of an era
in science and in civilization of
which he was one of the finest rep-
resentatives. The loss of the en-
vironment supplying men such as
Darwin and Rayleigh is part of the
price that must be paid for indus-
trial democracy, developing through
the nineteenth century and now ris-
ing to sudden supremacy through
the catastrophe of war.

A significant part of the Victorian
England was the life and work of
its two great universities. Strutt
entered Trinity College, Cambridge,
nearly sixty years ago, and received
his degree as senior wrangler in
1865, twenty years after William
Thomson, later Baron Kelvin, had
been second wrangler. The remark-
able selective power of the Cam-
bridge mathematical tripos exami-
nation is further shown by the fact
that the senior wrangler in Thom-
son’s year, Perkinson, was a mathe-
matician of distinction, while the
second wrangler, following Strutt,
was Alfred Marshall, also later pro-
fessor at Cambridge and England’s
most distinguished economist.

Rayleigh married Evelyn Balfour,
who was a niece of the Marquis of
Salisbury, author, prime minister
and president of the British Asso-
ciation; she was a sister of Mr. Bal-
four, also author, prime minister
and president of the British Asso-
ciation. The two other brothers of
Lady Balfour were also distin-
guished, Francis Balfour, professor
of animal morphology at Cambridge,
being a brilliant investigator. Her
sister, Mrs. Henry Sidgwick, wife

of the distinguished Cambridge pro-
fessor of ethics, was an able scien-
tific writer and investigator, becom-
ing later principal of Newnham Col-
lege. The oldest son of Lord and
Lady Rayleigh, who now inherits
the title, is professor of physics in
the London Imperial College of
Technology and the author of im-
portant contributions to the science.

Clerk Maxwell, the great mathe-
matical physicist, was the first
Cavendish professor of physics at
Cambridge. On his death in 1879
he was succeeded by Rayleigh who
held the chair for five years only.
His student Sir J. J. Thomson, suc-
ceeded him at the age of twenty-
seven. Thomson retired this year
from the chair to which his student,
Professor Rutherford, has now been
elected. It would perhaps be impos-
sible to name a chair in any subject
cr in any university held in succes-
sion by four men of such distin-
guished performance. The family
and academic relations of Rayleigh
indeed witness the efflorescence of
the aristocratic tradition.

Rayleigh established his labora-
tory at Terling Place on his eight
thousand acres of land and did his
work, usually with simple apparatus.
His book on the “ Theory of Sound”
is a classic. His “ Collected Papers,”
published in five volumes in 1910,
comprise 349 titles, and, as he con-
tinued to publish without cease, his
recent papers will fill a further
volume. Each of these papers is a
contribution to knowledge; none of
them is commonplace. To the gen-
eral public Rayleigh is best known
for the discovery of argon which
opened a new chapter in physics.
This he accomplished simply by the
use of the balance, finding a new

LorD RAYLEIGH,

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

element truly as common as air, for
it forms one two-hundredths of the
atmosphere.

Rayleigh was for eighteen years
professor of natural philosophy at
the Royal Institution; he was for
eleven years secretary and for five
years president of the Royal So-
ciety; he was president of the Brit-
ish Association when it visited Mon-
treal in 1884; he was chancellor of
the University of Cambridge until
his death; he received 2 Nobel Prize
and all the honors that go to men of
science. During the war and when
over eighty he rendered great serv-
ice to the progress of aviation as
chairman of the National Commit-
tee on Aeronautics. With unusual
truthfulness it can be said ‘we
shall not look upon his like again,”
tor the scientific and social condi-
tions of his life will not recur.

REFORM OF THE ENGLISH
UNIVERSITIES

FROM the days of Newton to Kel-
vin, Stokes, Maxwell, Rayleigh,
Thomson, Rutherford and Larmor,
the University of Cambridge has

9

381

been the home of mathematical phys-
ics. Newton entered Trinity College

in 1666, and was elected a fellow in

1667. During the subsequent two
hundred years until Rayleigh was
elected to a fellowship in 1866, the
college, which was especially fre-

quented by the sons of the nobility
and of the upper classes, produced
a long line of men of distinction, in-

cluding many mathematicians. Sir
J. J. Thomson, second wrangler in

1880, was elected to a fellowship in
that year and is now master of the
college.

Oxford and Cambridge, which with
about one tenth of the number
the students claimed by Columbia,

ot

have been responsible for the educa-
tion of more than one half the lead-
England has
had more great men than any other
nation.

ers of England, and

It is a noteworthy circum-
stance that these universities, medi-
eval not only in religion but also in
whole outlook life,
have this record. It seems necessary
to assume that the able men
great drawn to
and Cambridge rather than that an

their on should

or a

race were Oxford

NEVILLE

COURT,

TRINITY COLLEG!

382 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cbsolescent system of education was | sought, and declared that the finan-
responsible for their performance.| cial arrangements of Oxford and
Oxford and Cambridge have already | Cambridge offered prima facie some
been reformed by act of parliament,| ground for believing that consider-
and it is now proposed to repeat the | able economies would be made pos-
performance with the labor party as/ sible by a better system of admini-
the power behind the British throne, | stration—for example, by the greater
rather than men such as Larmor,| centralization of the revenues now
the mathematical physicist, who received by the colleges.
represents Cambridge in the con-| A demand was made for a thor-
servative interest in parliament. ovgh overhauling of the administra-
The announcement of the plans of tion of the colleges with a view to
the government were made by Mr. | diminishing the cost of living in col-
Fisher, a former university profes-| lege, which they estimated to be
sor, now minister for education, to a| rarely less, and generally consider-
deputation from the educational com-| ably more, than £100 for six or seven
mittee of the Parliamentary Labor months’ residence and _ education.
Party, which urged the desirability That, it was contended, excluded the
of an inquiry into every aspect of sons of men of small means, unless
the two universities. Mr. Fisher in-| they were assisted by scholarships
tormed the deputation that the au- cr exhibitions. The deputation defi-
thorities of both universities had nitely asserted that no systematic
agreed to the principle of the in-| effort had been made by all college
quiry. He gave an undertaking that authorities to reduce the cost of resi-
the government would carefully con- dence and education to the lowest
sider the question of the representa-| point compatible with efficiency. It
tion of the labor movement and of was added that working people did
women on the commissions. not accuse college authorities of any
The labor members, in presenting deliberate policy of exclusiveness.
their demands, suggested that the The deputation also asked for the
scope of the inquiry should be so thorough overhauling of the present
wide as to include the finance cf the system of awarding scholarships and
two universities, their endowments, exhibitions. It was stated that
constitution and government, and working people thought it highly
their relation to other parts of the improper that a money prize for a
national system of education, includ- term of years should be awarded to
ing the education of women. The a man who did not require it when
deputation reminded Mr. Fisher that so many men were debarred by finan-
since the last public inquiry into the cial difficulties from receiving a uni-
two universities the educational sys- versity education. Their view was
tem had been revolutionized. Fur- that scholarships should be used to
ther, the number of students who assist men who without assistance
could profit by study at Oxford and would be unable to meet the cost of
Cambridge had largely increased. sn Oxford or Cambridge education.
The deputation declared that the Among other recommendations the
labor movement desired that every deputation proposed that the consti-
man and woman capable of pursuing tution and government of the two
an education at the two universities universities should be reformed in
to good account should be able to such a way as to create a central
obtain it. They suggested that the body in each which would have effect-
end of the war was a specially suit- ive control over the whole of the
able time for the inquiry which they revenues and would compel the col-

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

leges to submit to its requirements
—for example, in reducing the cost
of living and in appointing lecturers
and fellows. They also pressed for
the inclusion on the governing body
of each university of the represen-
tatives of the outside public, nomi-
nated by the Board of Education or
otherwise, and for the abolition of
the power of convocations to veto
university legislation. Other points
to which the labor deputation at-
tached importance were the grant-
ing of degrees to women and the de-
velopment of extra-mural university
education.

Finally, the deputation assured
Mr. Fisher that labor was strongly
in favor of a far larger public ex-
penditure upon universities as upon

»

383
all other kinds of education. But
they contended that, until Oxford

and Cambridge were reformed, they
could not properly be assisted by the
grant of public money.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Gustaf Retzius, the eminent
Swedish anatomist and anthropolo-
gist. Professor Retzius’s father and
grandfather were also distinguished
Swedish professors of natural his-
tory and anatomy.

Dr. THEODORE W. RICHARDS, pro-
fessor of chemistry at Harvard Uni-
versity, has been elected president
ef the American Academy of Arts
end Sciences. Professor Alexander

tT a
BGG33 |

THE HALL OF

TRINITY

COLLEGE.

384

Smith, head of the department of
chemistry at Columbia University,
has been granted the degree of doc-
tor of laws by the University of
Edinburgh.

THE will of the late Andrew Car-
negie was filed on August 28. Mr.
Carnegie’s gifts to charity during
his life are said to have exceeded
$350,000,000. The value of his es-
tate is estimated at between $25,-
000,000 and $30,000,000. The will
contains a series of legacies, the most

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

substantial of which are to educa-

tional institutions. The Carnegie
Corporation of New York. He is
the residuary. legatee.—It is an-

rounced that Yale University will
receive approximately $18,000,000,
about $3,000,000 in excess of the ex-
pectation of the university corpora-
tion, from the estate of John W.
Sterling.—Edward F. Searles, of
San Francisco, has given stock val-
ued at $1,500,000 to the University
of California for its unrestricted use.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

NOVEMBER, 1919

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DAYLIGHT SAVING

By Professor GEORGE T. W. PATRICK
THE STATE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA

OTWITHSTANDING the President’s veto, a bill repeal-
N ing the daylight saving law in the United States was
passed by an overwhelming majority in the Senate and House.
One senator had on his desk a petition for the repeal of the law
signed by more than one hundred and twenty thousand names,
all from one state. In a typical mid-west town of twelve thou-
sand, a straw vote revealed more than ten to one against the
plan. Daylight saving in America thus passes for the moment
into history and by many unthinking people will no doubt be
remembered as a crazy freak of theorists or an unholy attempt
to meddle with the clock.

Nevertheless, daylight saving is sure to be revived and
there are already strong movements throughout the country to
introduce it again next summer in separate communities.
Furthermore, the statement may be made and easily maintained
_ that the daylight-saving plan is thoroughly sound and desirable
both from the economic and scientific standpoint, wholly con-
ducive to public welfare and practically free from serious
objections.

The formidable array of arguments marshaled against the
plan on the floor of Congress were riddled with fallacies, which
a little patience and candor might have exposed. Any careful
and serious consideration of the subject was prevented by a
wave of reaction and the clamor of the farmers of the middle
west who were inconvenienced by the law. It was simply
another instance of a clamorous minority and an indifferent
public.

Now that the law has been repealed and we have leisure
to study the subject more carefully, it will be instructive to
examine some of the grounds for daylight saving and some

VOL vile—25.

386 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of the arguments against it. There are also certain curious
psychological factors in the case, which it will be interesting
to observe.

On the face of it, daylight saving seems to be an unmixed
gain. The law provided that the clock should be advanced one
hour every spring and set back one hour in the fall. Unfortu-
nately in this country the change was made to take place too
early in the spring and too late in the fall, a mistake that should
be remedied in any future attempts. Now, since few people
get up at daylight in the summer, the daylight saving plan
gives us an extra hour of sunlight in place of an hour of
artificial light in our waking day. Since sunlight is cheaper
than gas or electric light, being absolutely free for the taking,
and since it is also brighter and healthier, and since, further-
more, the plan involves no change in the routine of our daily
life, merely substituting one hour of sunlight for one hour of
darkness, it would seem at first view that there could be no
possible objection to it, except on the part of the gas and elec-
tric companies.

If we note also the fact that the plan has been adopted by
practically all the European countries, resulting in an enormous
saving in expense in artificial lighting and adding apparently
to the health, happiness and comfort of the people, the mystery
deepens as to the cause of the objection to it in this country.
The subject offers a unique chapter in popular psychology and
reveals certain new features not hitherto brought into the dis-
cussion. Although sunlight is cheaper, healthier and brighter
than artificial light and more convenient even than pressing
an electric button, it appears that people prefer the artificial
light and the reasons for this preference have to be taken into
account. If these reasons are valid, then, in spite of all the
conspicuous arguments for the plan from the economic, hygienic
and social point of view, we might still have to revise our
opinion as to the value of it.

But first let us orient ourselves on the whole subject. It
has been determined that adult men and women need about
eight hours of sleep daily. This leaves sixteen hours of the
twenty-four for our waking life. In the platform of labor
parties, for instance, we read of eight hours for work, eight
hours for sleep, and eight hours for recreation. Now it happens
that in the summertime in the latitude of New York and our
great middle west, the daylight day is sixteen hours in length.
It is light at about four in the morning (that is, by the old

PSYCHOLOGY OF DAYLIGHT SAVING 387

time) and darkness falls at about eight in the evening. After
eight o’clock it is necessary to use artificial light. Thus the
natural daylight day in the summer months exactly fits the
human working day and there is no doubt that during the age-
long history of man on the earth, reaching back hundreds of
thousands of years, he has been accustomed to rise at daylight
and go to sleep at dark, as do the birds and other lower
animals. Only the predatory birds and animals, who have
found it to their advantage to prey upon the quiescent nocturnal
life, reverse this order.

Gradually, however, with the invention of artificial light,
and especially since the invention of the electric light, there has
come about a displacement between the daylight day and the
human day, so that now we rise two or three, or even four or
five hours, after daylight and remain up two, three, or even
five or six hours, after dark, using artificial light. This dis-
placement has taken place in human history very recently, just
yesterday, relatively speaking. Even as late as the time of
the Greeks and Romans, there was relatively little displacement.
In one of Plato’s dialogues the young man Hippocrates thumps
loudly on Socrates’ door before daybreak, eager to hasten to.
the place where Protagoras, the celebrated sophist, was in-~
structing Athenian youth.

The reasons for this displacement of the human working
day are interesting. We shall inquire presently into this curious
bit of psychology. But the displacement itself is going on
faster than ever at the present time, owing in large part to the
discovery of the convenient, brilliant and fascinating electric
light. Every year it seems to be a little harder to go to bed
or to get up at the old accustomed time. Automobiles, unlike
the horse, travel as well at night as by day and keep increas-
ingly late hours. College and high-school students study later
at night or engage in social activities. To go to bed early is
not just the thing. It is a little out of date. To meet the
requirements of our complicated modern life, more and more
industries continue through the night, for instance, railroads
and steamship lines, hotels, police service, news collecting and
newspaper printing, etc. Quite apart, however, from these
necessary night occupations there is an increasing tendency to
shift the day farther and farther forward. Without doubt the
number of people who sleep till noon is constantly increasing.
If the matter is left to adjust itself, one naturally wonders how
far we shall go in the substitution of night for day. Will day
and night finally be wholly transposed?

(ow)
D
io 8)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Apart from psychological considerations, this displacement
of the day seems to be the purest kind of folly. The morning
hours with the noisy singing of the birds and the streaming
light of the sun are not well adapted to sleeping. At nightfall,
which in the summer takes place at about eight o’clock by the
old time, nature is still and the conditions for sleep are perfect.

This loss of the morning sunlight was so evidently a net
loss to the nation, that the daylight-saving plan was devised to
correct it. It does not attempt to correct the whole discrepancy
between the natural day and the human working day, but only
one hour of it. And it attempts to do this not by making any
change whatever in our daily program, but simply by setting
the whole program one hour earlier by the sun, leaving it pre-
cisely as before by the clock. It is as if a good God had said:

My people have shifted their day so that they lose two or three hours
of the precious morning sunlight and have to use artificial light in the
evening. How shall I correct this? In order not to disturb their habits
or their customs or their clocks, I will quietly order the sun in the summer-
time to rise one hour later and set one hour later at night. This will bring
their day and my day more nearly together and many of them will hardly
know that any change has been made. They will simply enjoy the sun-
light an hour longer every evening.

Of course, the same effect could be accomplished by advanc-
ing in the middle of some dark night every clock in the land.
This was the way that Congress attempted to attain the desired
end. So far as the daylight-saving law has failed of its full
benefits, it has been because many of us did not understand
that we were to make no change in our daily schedule. We
should have gone on precisely as before in every detail. If we
had been accustomed to rise at six o’clock, breakfast at seven,
go to school at nine, lunch at twelve, dine at six and retire at
ten, we should have gone on doing all these things at precisely
the same time by the clock. Then no change or disturbance
whatever would have taken place in our lives, only we should
have enjoyed an hour’s additional sunlight in the evening.

True, the great majority of us did this and we have found
the added sunlight the greatest benefit. We have enjoyed our
morning’s sleep better because it was dark and quiet. Then
the day has followed exactly as before, except only that when
we have gone to work at the usual hour the sun was not so
high nor so hot and, it being summertime, this has been greatly
appreciated, for the last hour of our work in the afternoon
had often been very hot and uncomfortable, and now we have
been free during this last hour. This has given us after work

PSYCHOLOGY OF DAYLIGHT SAVING 389

at night or after school a delightfully long evening for play or
sport or picnics, or, if we prefer, for work at home. The home
garden has become more popular and this added hour of sun-
light after working hours has given many of us an opportunity
to work in our gardens or with our flowers. To be sure, under
the old plan we could get up in the morning and work in the
garden, but the gardens in the morning were wet with the
dew and work was unpleasant. The result has: been a very
large increase in the number and size of our gardens, with a
corresponding increase of wealth and health.

Now that the war is over, if the daylight-saving plan should
be continued, decided benefit in respect to morals may also be
expected, for darkness is a cover for every evil thing. We
know how our cities and towns in the interest of morals flood
the streets, alleys and parks with electric light. Sunlight ac-
complished this end so much the better.

Still greater will be the benefit to our national health. Sun-
light is the enemy of almost every form of disease. The sub-
stitution of an hour of daylight for an hour of artificial light
means for many of us another hour of outdoor life with outdoor
sports or outdoor work. An hour of lamp light means an hour
of indoor life. Since some of our most insidious modern dis-
eases are the results of our increasingly sedentary and indoor
life, the benefit of the daylight-saving plan to our national health
must be obvious.

Incidentally too there will be a decided benefit to the eyes.
Our modern life involves so great a strain upon the eyes in
reading and in all manner of fine work, and so much of this
reading and writing is done at night by the aid of artificial
light, that the substitution of an hour of sunlight for gas or
electric light will be of supreme value to us. In fact we are
coming to realize that something must be done to relieve the
strain upon the eyes. Statistics from our recent military
draft showed that nearly thirty-five per cent. of our young men
were physically unfit for military service, and of the various
defects causing this unfitness defects of the eyes stood at the
head of the list, more than one fifth of all the rejections being
due to this cause.

While no doubt the greatest advantage of the daylight-
saving plan is in the matter of health in the substitution of sun-
light for artificial light one hour each day in the summer, never-
theless it is the saving in expense which appeals to us most
forcibly. Artificial illumination in homes, parks, streets,

390 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

hotels, railroad stations and in all shops, offices, stores, etc.,
that are open in the evening in summertime must begin under
the old plan about eight o’clock in midsummer and earlier in
the spring and fall, while under the new plan it begins an hour
later. The city of Vienna is said to have reduced its gas con-
sumption in one summer by the daylight-saving plan by 158
million cubic feet, resulting in a saving of $142,000. One of
the large electric-lighting establishments in Paris reported that
when the clock was turned back in October its nightly peak
load of 35,000 kilowatts of current jumped in a few days to
58,000 kilowatts. It is estimated that England saves $12,-
500,000 in coal annually by the new method and the saving
for the United States is estimated at $25,000,000 annually.

The coal supply of the world is not going to last forever.
Many think that the shortage will soon begin to be felt in this
country. Coal for keeping us warm in winter and in lighting
our homes in winter is indispensable. To lie in bed in the
morning when the sun is shining and then use our precious
supply of coal for illumination at night would seem to be an
inexcusable extravagance. Conservation of coal will soon be
absolutely necessary. It may well begin by daylight saving.
The saving in coal, however, is only a part of the total finan-
cial gain of the new daylight plan.

If under such circumstances it seems difficult to explain the
opposition to the plan, the difficulty is increased when we recall
the general favor with which the plan has been received in
European countries and indeed with large classes in America.
On June 14 of the present year The Literary Digest published
the results of a wide inquiry among labor unions and working-
men’s organizations as to the opinion of laboring men about the
daylight-saving law. With very few exceptions wholly favor-
able responses were received from mine workers, electric work-
ers, laundry, brewery, flour, cereal, flint glass, garment, soft
drink, and boot and shoe workers’ unions and from organiza-
tions representing machinists, hod carriers, blacksmiths, bar-
bers, pressmen, and from hotel and restaurant workers. Fur-
thermore, the new plan appears to be very favorably received
by physicians, lawyers, university men, public-school teachers
and business men. It gives them longer summer evenings for
gardening, motoring, golf, etc.

The immediate cause of the attempt of Congress to repeal
the law was the loud and vigorous protest of the farmers against
it. If we consider the unusual and unparalleled prosperity of

PSYCHOLOGY OF DAYLIGHT SAVING 391

the farmers during the time in which daylight saving has been
in force, and furthermore the rather unconvincing character of
the arguments which they brought against it, and still further
the very feeble fight which advocates of the plan offered in its
defence, it becomes evident that there were other factors in-
volved in the situation. One of these factors no doubt was the
extreme conservatism of the American people and their dislike
of any legislative action which seemed to interfere with the
established routine of their daily lives. The change to standard
time, for instance, which was effected by act of Congress some
years ago and which has resulted in great benefit and conven-
ience, met with serious opposition in many quarters and it is
said that the old time is still adhered to in some localities.
Again, all attempts to discard our antiquated and inconvenient
system of weights and measures and to substitute the scientific
metric system have met with opposition. For a body of legis-
lators at Washington to interfere with the affairs of our daily
life and tell us what time to get up and what time to go to bed
was carrying things too far. As a war measure we could sub-
mit to this or any indignity, but not in time of peace. When the
daylight-saving scheme was first brought forward in England
and America it was opposed even by men of science, and if the
farmers have offered unsound arguments against it, so did the
scientists. It was argued, for instance, by the English journal,
Nature, that England should not adopt the plan for the reason
that it had been adopted by Germany and that Germany had
probably adopted it because England had not! This writer
closed his editorial with the remark that daylight saving would
be a leap in the dark! This was every bit as bad as the farmer
who wrote to his local paper that the crazy daylight law should
be repealed because working in the corn-field in the early morn-
ing brushed the dew from the corn. A slight computation
would have shown this writer that the chances of any given hill
of corn having the dew brushed from it once during the sum-
mer, owing to the earlier hour of the farmer’s. day, would be
only one in ten. Many letters were written by farmers and
farmers’ wives to local papers protesting against the unholy
interference with God’s time.

But let us consider the real arguments against the plan of
daylight saving as they were presented by the farmers through
their representatives in Congress. One objection was that the
hottest time of the day was between twelve and one o’clock
(according to the old time) and under the new plan the farmer

392 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and his horses must be back in the field during this hour. This
argument has all the appearance of being manufactured in some
newspaper office, for any observing farmer knows, as any
thermometric chart will show, that the hottest part of a sum-
mer’s day is not at that time, but between two and four in the
afternoon, usually between two and three. In midsummer in
the Mississippi Valley the maximum temperature occurs at
about three o’clock, while even at six the temperature has fallen
often only three degrees Fahrenheit. The great difference be-
tween the temperature of the first morning hour of the working
day and the last evening hour, reveals the advantage of the new
plan to all workers during the hot weather, since it substitutes
the cool morning hour for the hot evening hour.

Second, it was complained by mothers, not only in the coun-
try but in the city, that under daylight saving the children
could not get ready for school in time, since it began an hour
earlier. The reply to this is, of course, that school does not
begin an hour earlier but at precisely the same time, namely, at
nine o’clock. If the children were accustomed to get up at five,
six, seven or eight o’clock, they could continue to do so under
the new plan and would have the same time for preparation as
before. In any case they would not have to get up before light,
for it is light at five o’clock by the new time in midsummer and
at half past five on May 1. It is probable that the children slept
later under the new plan and they slept later because they sat
up later. In other words, they did not fully accept the daylight-
saving plan but made a change in their hour of retiring, when
it came into effect. Indeed if school began at seven, there
should be no difficulty in getting there on time. It’s a matter of
habit. The church hour has been gradually put later and later
until now it is at eleven o’clock, and yet many people are late
for church.

Third, it was complained that the dairymen had to get up
earlier in the morning, perhaps before daylight, in order to get
the milk ready for the morning trains. Incidentally one can
not help noting here a psychological factor, namely, our willing-
ness to use artificial light in the evening but our dislike to using
it in the morning. No doubt the advancing of the clock has
made it necessary for some dairymen to get up before daylight
and has caused them considerable inconvenience. But for these
dairymen to ask that the rest of the hundred million people of
this country should sleep another hour every morning in order
that they, the milkmen, should not have to get up before day-

PSYCHOLOGY OF DAYLIGHT SAVING 393

light would be unique, to say the least. If, for instance, we
imagine a great nation accustomed to get up at daybreak and
go to bed at dark and living in large cities and demanding fresh
milk for their breakfasts, some one would have to get up before
light to supply the demand. This inconvenience could no doubt
be avoided if all the people except the dairymen should sleep
several hours later in the morning, but no sane man would pro-
pose to remedy the difficulty in this way.

Seen in this light, the other difficulties experienced by the
farmers fall into their proper perspective. In advocating the
repeal of the law, the farmers have laid special stress upon two
difficulties. First, owing to the dew, the early morning hour is
not favorable for farm work. And second, if to avoid this the
farmer begins and ends his day’s work at the former time, his
hired men make trouble, since they wish to stop work when the
town and city people do. Furthermore, if the farmer works an
hour longer than the city people, he is late for any entertain-
ment or meeting which he may wish to attend in the city in the
evening. As these difficulties were presented to the country,
they were offered as separate and cumulative objections. They
are, of course, alternatives. If the farmer begins his work an
hour earlier than formerly and experiences trouble from the
dew, he does not experience the other troubles, and vice versa.

Perhaps none of these difficulties is so serious as was
imagined. The complaints about the dew came principally from
the farmers of the Mississippi Valley and pertain only to haying
and harvest time. The dew does not interfere with other farm-
ing operations, such as plowing, disking, seeding and planting
and cultivating corn. During harvest time, as the dew is some-
times on the grass and grain until nine or ten o’clock, it is often
in any case necessary for the farmer to begin and end his work
at later hours. The need of synchronizing farm and city hours
of labor during three or four weeks of the year is not so great
as to ask a whole nation during the whole summer to begin its
day’s work an hour later in the morning and live by artificial
light an hour later at night.

It was also loudly proclaimed by the opponents of the day-
light-saving law that if the city people want to get up earlier in
the morning, they can do so, but let them not meddle with the
clock. But if the city people got up earlier, they would begin
their working day earlier and the farmers’ two difficulties
would appear as before. And it should be remembered that it
is a question of social welfare in which everybody is interested

394 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and that the habits of the people will not be changed, although
theoretically they could be, without some concerted legisla-
tive action. It is probable that the farmers themselves, when
the matter has been accurately presented to them, accustomed
as they are to rise and retire early, will welcome a change which
shall encourage other people to do the same.

It turns out, therefore, that the objections to the daylight-
saving law are rather petty and not of serious moment. Per-
haps the strongest objection is one which apparently was not
urged by the opponents of the law, namely, that a great many
people in America have to sleep in upper rooms which are very
hot in the evening and that they therefore sit up until it is cool
and so under the new plan do not get enough sleep. There are
no doubt ways in which this difficulty may be met and it is not
of such seriousness as to weigh against the exceeding great
benefits of the new plan.

After all, the psychological factors of the situation are the
ones which present the greatest obstacles to daylight saving.
There is a certain fascination about artificial light and a certain
human predilection for night life that must be reckoned with.
Whatever the reason for this preference may be, it is so strong
that if by legislative action we were to set forward the clock
one hour both summer and winter, in the long run it is probable
that nothing would be gained. We should soon be getting up an
hour later by the clock, should go to school at ten, to church at
twelve, and our whole daily schedule would be correspondingly
advanced. It is only by adopting the plan for the summer
months that any really permanent advantage may be gained.

But what is the cause of this shifting forward of the human
day so that it no longer corresponds with the solar day? Why
do we tend to get up later and go to bed later as the years go by?
There are several reasons and the psychologists are able with
considerable success to fathom them. The first is a very simple
and evident reason. As life becomes complicated and interest-
ing, it is difficult to get through with the duties of the day in the
usual time and so we sit up later at night, and then, in order to
obtain the necessary sleep, we have to get up later the next
morning—and the habit grows.

Another minor cause is found in the fact that at night, when
most of the world sleeps, some will find it to their advantage to
be awake. Just as certain predatory birds and animals roam
or prowl at night to take advantage of the sleepers, so certain
human occupations, lawful and unlawful, flourish under cover

PSYCHOLOGY OF DAYLIGHT SAVING 395

of the darkness. Certain kinds of crime flourish at night and
night is proverbially the time for love making in all its phases.
Many students, writers, inventors, etc., work at night simply be-
cause it is quiet and greater mental concentration is possible.
Some night workers report a peculiar feeling of power and sov-
ereignty at night, as though one possessed the world. Ob-
viously, however, these advantages of night work will disappear
in proportion as the night hours are used by all. Already the
morning hours are becoming the really quiet time for work.
Those who find the night hours better for concentrative or crea-
tive work have formed an expensive mental habit. If the habit
were reversed, the morning hours after refreshing sleep would
be found the most productive as well as the most economical.

But probably the real reasons for our ever increasing night
life are of a profound psychological nature. There are two dis-
tinct principles involved here. First, artificial light exercises
upon us a peculiar fascination not possessed by sunlight. This
is due to certain mental associations coming down from the
primitive life of man. Fire is the original source of artificial
light and fire and light are associated in the mind. The camp-
fire or the fire on the hearth suggest feasting and joy after the
labor of the day and in winter suggest warmth and comfort.
After the strenuous labors of the day in forest and field comes
the pleasant relaxation of the evening, and whether this takes
the form of feasting or dancing or music or the telling of tales,
the camp-fire is the center of this joyous social life. This deep-
seated association fixed by centuries of ancestral habit explains
that peculiar feeling of pleasure which we have when the lights
are lighted at night. When theatrical performances are held
by day, no matter how well lighted the theater may be, we all
prefer to darken the windows and use the electric lights, while
the lure of the great city is partly due to the glitter of the bril-
liantly lighted streets and places of amusement.

The other reason for the peculiar charm of night life is due
to still more recondite mental associations. To live by night
and sleep by day is a sign of class distinction. The man who
works at common manual labor must rise with the sun and go
to work. Not so the leisure classes. They can rise when they
choose and sit up as late as they wish. Night life, therefore,
gives what Professor Thorstein Veblen would call “ honorific
status.” It is only another case of “‘ conspicuous waste.” To go
to bed early is not just the thing from the social point of view.
To sit up late is a sign of a certain “invidious distinction.” To

396 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sit up very late or to lie in bed till noon is a sign of affluence.
We often boast of late hours but we are a little ashamed of
going to bed early. In Russia, for instance, before the war,
class distinctions were quite marked in this way. Banks, busi-
ness and professional offices, etc., opened at ten o’clock. Lunch
was served at two, dinner at seven, evening tea between eleven
and twelve, regular social activities continued till two or three
and special social functions till four or five in the morning. The
laboring classes, on the other hand, must get up early and retire
early at night. Night life thus became a form of “ ostentatious
display.”

On the whole, then, it appears that the motives which have
led to the substitution of the night life for the life of the sun-
light day have little or nothing to recommend them, whether we
consider them in their economic, hygienic, moral, social or psy-
chological relations. They rest upon an obsolescent social
philosophy and outgrown anthropological habits. They can not
prevail at a time like this when we recognize the dignity of
labor, the importance of health and the need for conservation
of our material resources. The daylight-saving movement is
therefore distinctly a modern movement, representing just
what the present age stands for, namely, health, economy, con-
servation and common sense.

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 397

THE SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES

By Professor ROBERT DeC. WARD

HARVARD UNIVERSITY

THE ECONOMICS OF SNOW

HE margin of temperature difference between rain and
i) Snow is a narrow one. It is, however, one of the most
critical points in man’s relation to the atmosphere, because
of the fundamental differences in the economic effects of

_rain and snow. Snow, especially the deep snows which lie for

weeks and months on the mountains and plateaus of the semi-
arid West, furnish a slower and therefore a more lasting nat-
ural supply of water for power, for irrigation, and for general
use than does rain, which has a quick run-off. In the drier
sections of the United States many of the most important prob-
lems with which engineers have to deal, whether in connection
with railroad construction and operation, or hydraulics, or
irrigation, or general water-supply, are connected with the
depth and conditions of snowfall, and with the amount of water
which its melting will supply. In California, the mountain
snowfall has well been termed the life-blood of the state, and
the same is true of most of the vast territory west of the Rocky
Mountains. The farmers throughout the districts of deficient
precipitation are deeply concerned with the amount of winter
snowfall, for the melting snows supply most of the water needed
for irrigating the crops. A winter snow-cover prevents deep
freezing of the ground; protects grasses and fall-sown crops,
and provides spring moisture for growing vegetation.

When sufficiently deep, and more or less permanent, snow
makes sleighing possible, and greatly facilitates lumbering
operations over the forested sections of the northern and north-
eastern states. Heavy winter snows, on the other hand, inter-
fere with railroad operation, sometimes causing serious and
expensive interruption of transportation, and involving great
expense for the removal of snow from steam and electric rail-
roads, and from city streets. At the same time, such conditions
furnish employment to thousands of men. An open winter,
with light snowfall, means a saving of millions of dollars to the
railroads and cities in the snow-belt. In the latitudes of heavy
snowfall, snow-sheds, snow-fences and snow-ploughs are essen-

398 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tial to a reasonably uninterrupted railroad service. The
demand for all kinds of rubber footwear in the states where
snowfall is a common winter characteristic has given rise to
one of the important manufacturing industries of the snow-belt.
The use of snowshoes and of skis, for winter sports as well as
for ordinary means of locomotion, is another result of a winter
snow-cover.

THE MEASUREMENT OF SNOWFALL

The accurate measurement of snowfall presents many diffi-
culties, and no reasonably simple, practical and satisfactory
method for general use has yet been devised. Most of the avail-
able records are still of rather doubtful accuracy. What is
needed is careful determination both of the depth of snow as it
falls and also of the water-equivalent of the snow when melted.
The widely-quoted average ratio of ten inches of snow to one
inch of water is subject to very wide fluctuations, for it depends
upon the varying density and quality of the snow. The essen-
tial difficulty in obtaining accurate measurements by means of
any ordinary form of gauge results from the effect of the wind
in preventing the snow from falling into the gauge. In calms,
or during light winds, there is little or no error, but when there
is much wind such a gauge, unless properly protected or
screened in order to break the force of the wind, will give too
small a catch, the deficiency becoming greater as the wind
velocity increases.

In view of the economic importance of the amount of water
available for irrigation and power in the western states, con-
siderable study has been made, especially during recent years,
of the whole problem of the more exact determination of the
depth of snowfall and of its water-equivalent. Various im-
provements in snow-gauges which weigh the snow directly have
been made by Marvin, Fergusson, Rotch and Fitzgerald, but
there still remains the difficulty of securing an accurate catch.
Professor Charles F. Marvin, the present Chief of the Weather
Bureau, has devised a large shielded weighing gauge which has
given fairly satisfactory results at some stations, but there
have been difficulties with it on account of the blocking of the
top of the collector during wet and sticky snows and by frozen
snow, as well as by reason of its being crushed by the weight of
very deep snow. In snows which accumulate to a depth of
many feet a very large gauge becomes necessary, and there are
many difficulties which are not met with where snows are light.
In the regions of very heavy snowfalls on the higher unin-

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 399

habited elevations of the western states there is the difficulty of
visiting the gauges during the winter, and of constructing a
gauge of some sort which may catch, and record, the snowfall
of a whole season. Snow “bins” of various forms, standpipes,
platforms, and other devices have been tried, without much
success. Various methods have also been used for measuring
the depth of snow by means of snow-stakes, and of melting
cross-sections of snow in order to determine the average density
of the snow cover. Professor J. E. Church, Jr., of the Univer-
sity of Nevada, has obtained good results by using snow-stakes,
and by cutting out and measuring tubular sections of the deep
snows of the Sierra Nevada by means of his improved ‘‘ snow
sampler.”’!

In this instrument, vertical snow cylinders are cut out by
means of several sections of tubing of small diameter, and the
water content of this sample is determined by weight, the dial
of the spring balance being graduated to indicate the depth of
water instead of its weight. In order to ascertain in advance
the amount of water which will each year be available from the
melting mountain snows, surveys have been made of type water-
sheds in selected areas of the West, and the amount of snow on
adjacent watersheds is then estimated. Surveys of this kind
will undoubtedly be greatly extended by the Weather Bureau in
the near future.

In the matter of forecasting the amount of water available
from snow, the rate of melting of the snow, as well as the
amount of evaporation from the snowfields and from the sur-
faces of water storage basins are obviously of great conse-
quence. Some years ago (1908) Professor J. N. Le Conte
devised a method for determining the mean rate of melting of
the snows in the Sierra Nevada Mountains of California.2 In
order to obtain the true rate of melting, the average date at
which the snow is of a certain depth is determined. The mean
curve of melting is then compared with the actual curve of a
given year. When the actual curve falls below the mean as a
whole the season is dry, the rains are likely to be low, and travel
in the mountains will probably be easy as early as July. When,
on the contrary, the actual curve of melting is slower than the

1J. E. Church, Jr., “ Snow Surveying: its Problems and their Present
Phases with Reference to Mount Rose, Nevada, and Vicinity,’ Proc. 2d ~
Pan-Amer. Sci. Congr., Sec. II., Vol. II., 8vo, Washington, D. C., 1917,
pp. 496-547 (a general discussion of the problem, with references to the
literature).

2J. N. Le Conte, “ Snowfall in the Sierra Nevada,” Bull. Sierra Club,
June, 1908.

400 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mean, it may be inferred that the snows will last longer, and
that high water will come later. This matter has been dis-
cussed by Professor A. G. McAdie, who has designed a model by
means of which the actual curve of melting for a given season
may be compared with the mean curve, and thus the probable
date of the disappearance of the snow may be determined.

Professor A. J. Henry, of the Weather Bureau, has investi-
gated the weather conditions which may modify or control the
disappearance of the snows in the High Sierras of California.‘
The most pronounced “snow flood” in the United States is that
which passes annually down the Columbia River and which is
due almost wholly to the melting snows on the mountains of the
Columbia drainage basin. Otherwise “snow floods” are gen-
erally rare in the United States, flood conditions being usually
brought about by a combination of snow-melting and of heavy
rainfall. In the high Sierras, the most favorable weather con-
ditions for the conservation of the snow-cover are low tempera-
tures and little wind movement. When these conditions pre-
vail, the average loss by evaporation is about three quarters of
an inch per day. Relatively high temperature, active wind
movement, and abundance of strong sunshine are the most
favorable conditions for the conservation of a snow cover.
Under these conditions, the loss of freshly fallen snow may
average ten inches a day, and of old snow, three to four inches.
In connection with the disappearance of snow, the influence of
‘forests upon the rate of melting deserves more extended study
than it has yet received. To cite but one illustration, it appears
that in the case of the yellow pine forest near Flagstaff, Ariz.,
the spring rate of melting in the forest is noticeably slower
than that over the adjacent grass and farm-land park area.®
The observations of snowfall at the regular stations of the
Weather Bureau are made by means of ordinary gauges, the
amount of melted snow being included in the general record of
“rainfall.” In addition, the number of inches and tenths of
inches of snowfall for each 24-hour interval is determined as

3A. G. McAdie, “ Snowfall at Summit, Cal.,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 38,
1910, pp. 940-941; “ Forecasting the Supply of Water for the Summer
from the Depth of Snow,” ibid., Vol. 39, 1911, pp. 445-447; “ Forecasting
the Water Supply of California,” ibid., Vol. 41, 1913, pp. 1092-1093; “ The
Principles of Aerography,” 8vo, Chicago and New York, 1917, pp. 226-
229. See also J. N. Le Conte, loc. cit.

4 Alfred J. Henry, “ The Disappearance of Snow in the High Sierras
of California,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 44, 1916, pp. 150-153.

5A. J. Jaenicke and M. H. Foerster, “The Influence of a Western

Yellow Pine Forest on the Accumulation and Melting of Snow,” Mo. Wea.
Rev., Vol. 48, 1915, pp. 115-124.

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 401

accurately as possible by measurements made at places where
the snow is of average depth.°

These observations have been used as the basis of the snow-
fall maps of the United States hitherto published.’

THE MEAN ANNUAL SNOWFALL MAP OF THE UNITED STATES

The standard snowfall map of the United States at the pres-
ent time was constructed by Dr. Charles F. Brooks and orig-
inally published in England.°®

It is here reproduced, with some slight modification, for the
first time. The map is based upon the snowfall observations
from July, 1895, to June, 1910. In all, the data for over 2,000
stations were used. Of these, 159 had a continuous record for
the fifteen years, and these were given the most weight. The
data for stations with shorter records were given less and less
weight as the length of the period of observation decreased. In
previous maps the observations used came mostly from the
larger cities, the majority of which are not far from sea-level.

6 Current data regarding snowfall may be found in the “ Annual Re-
ports of the Chief of the Weather Bureau”; in the Monthly Weather
Review (including the Annual Summary), and in the monthly and annual
reports of “ Climatological Data ” which are issued for the section centres,
each section as a rule corresponding to a state. Averages, covering
periods of years, may be found in the “ Summaries of Climatological Data
by Sections,” and in A. J. Henry: “ Climatology of the United States,”
Bulletin Q, U. S. Weather Bureau, 4to, Washington, D. C., 1906. Both
of the last-named publications also contain brief statements concerning
snowfall in their texts. Maps showing the depth of snowfall for each
month appear regularly during the winter in the Monthiy Weather Review,
and the depth of snow on the ground is charted weekly during the season
in the Snow and Ice Bulletin. All of the above are regular publications
of the Weather Bureau.

7The first snowfall map of the United States was constructed by
Professor Mark W. Harrington on the basis of data covering the general
period 1884 to 1891. A reproduction may be found in F. Waldo, “ Ele-
mentary Meteorology,” 8vo, New York, 1896, Fig. 108, p. 344. A later
chart, for the general period 1884 to 1895, the data covering varying num-
bers of years from 3 to 11, by Professor A. J. Henry, was published in the
Monthly Weather Review, Vol. 26, March, 1898, Ch. XI., Text, p. 108. A
note is appended to the chart, stating that the snowfall of the Sierra
Nevada and Rocky Mountains is “much greater” than is shown on the
chart. Monthly charts, showing the average depth of snowfall from
October to May, inclusive, based on records of varying lengths from five
to twenty years, mostly not over seven years (1884-1891), were published
in 1891 by Professor Harrington (Bulletin C, U. S. Weather Bureau,
1894, Pl. XVIII., text, pp. 16-17).

8 Charles F. Brooks, “ The Snowfall of the United States,” Quart.
Journ. Roy. Met. Soc., Vol. 39, 1913, pp. 81-84, Pl. II.

VOL. vi1.—26.

402 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Hence the snowfalls on the mountains and at the higher eleva-
tions generally were not indicated. In the case of the present
map, the author has made use of the observations which have
been obtained at the higher altitudes as well, and, taking ac-
count of the probable effect of the topography, has for the first
time shown the actual conditions of snowfall over the whole
country with as close an approach to accuracy as is possible
with the observations which were used. When more numerous,
and later data come to be taken into account, a more detailed
and a more accurate map can, of course, be constructed.

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MAN ANNUAL SNOWFALL MAP OF THD UNITED SrTaTes. (C. F. Brooks.)

The lines on the accompanying map show the average annual
depth of snowfall, in inches, on the general basis of 15 years of
observation. ‘They do not, therefore, indicate the maximum or
the minimum depths which have been recorded in this period;
nor the depths in any single year; nor does the 0-inch line show
the extreme limit to which snow has ever fallen. It must, fur-
thermore, be remembered that the amount of snowfall varies
greatly, and very irregularly, from year to year. Years of
abundant snows, well exceeding the average depth, alternate
irregularly with years of deficient snowfall. This variability
depends on the length and the severity of the winter, and on the
number and the intensity of the snowstorms.

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 403

GENERAL CONTROLS OF SNOWFALL; SNOWSTORM; 24-HOUR
SNOWFALLS

The major controls of snowfall in the United States are
the temperature; the season of precipitation ; the frequency and
intensity of winter storms; the topography; proximity to pri-
mary sources of moisture-supply, such as the oceans and the
Great Lakes, and the exposure to damp winds. The heaviest
snowfall is to be expected where the winter season naturally
has abundant precipitation, and where the temperatures are low
enough to give snow instead of rain. Such conditions are found
on certain mountains, as on the Sierra Nevada, for example,
where the low temperatures are due to the altitude, or on damp
lowlands, as in the vicinity of the lakes, where the climate is
continental and therefore the winters are cold. The tempera-
ture control over snowfall is clearly indicated in the decrease
in the amount of snow towards the south, and also along the
Atlantic coast, where, during the winter months, rain frequently
falls with onshore winds while it is snowing in the interior, not
many miles away.

Over nearly all of the eastern United States the northeast
wind, being both cold and damp, is the chief snow-bringer. A
“northeast snowstorm” is a familiar winter characteristic,
especially along the Atlantic coast.? The heaviest snows usually
come in February or even in March over the northern sections.
The northwest winds, blowing on the rear of the storms, are
plenty cold enough to give snow, but are generally too dry.
Snow flurries, rather than deep and general snows, are there-
fore usually associated with them. Exceptions must, however,
be made in the case of windward mountain slopes, as in the
Appalachian area, and of places to leeward of the Great Lakes,
where the northwest winds may bring heavy snowfalls. In an
intensive study of two great snowstorms, Dr. Brooks has
brought out certain characteristics of snowfall distribution
which are doubtless of common occurrence.?°

Snow fell over a wide area on each side of the storm track.
The heaviest snows came with northeast winds, over a belt
about 100 to 200 miles in width, to the north of the track. The
northwest winds, in the southwest quadrants of the storms,
sprinkled light snows over the country as far as about 300 miles
to the southward of the track. A distinct “ patchiness” in the

9 Charles F. Brooks, “ The Snowfall of the Eastern United States,”
Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 48, 1915, pp. 2-11.

10 Charles F. Brooks, “The Distribution of Snowfall in Cyclones of

the Eastern United States,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 42, 1914, pp. 318-330;
Chs. 11.

404 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

distribution of these snowfalls resulted from local topographic
features.

It is a general characteristic of heavy snowfalls in eastern
districts, especially on mountains, that they are accompanied by
fairly high winds. A marked contrast to this condition is found
in the region of very deep snows on the Sierra Nevada Moun-
tains of California, for example, where the winds are always
relatively light.

The greatest 24-hour snowfalls in the different sections of
the country have been summarized by Professor Henry as fol-
lows: northeast, 2-3 ft.; elsewhere east of the Mississippi River,
from 8 inches (Ohio Valley) to 18-20 inches (along the Lower
Lakes) ; southern states, 4-8 inches; Mississippi Valley, 5 inches
(Vicksburg) to 20 inches (St. Louis) ; northern plains, 9-17
inches; Rocky Mountains, 8-24 inches; Plateau and Northern
Pacific coast, 10—20 inches."

GENERAL DISTRIBUTION OF SNOWFALL IN THE UNITED STATES

Snow falls regularly every winter over by far the greater
part of the United States. The only sections which seem to be
exempt from even occasional snowfalls are southern Florida and
the lowlands of southernmost California adjacent to the ocean.
There is considerable variation in the latitudes which mark the
southernmost limits of snowfall in any given winter, but for
purposes of convenience and of easy memorizing, the limiting
latitudes of regular and of occasional snowfall may be broadly
generalized as follows:

LATITUDES OF REGULAR AND OF OCCASIONAL SNOWFALL

District Regular Occasional
Pacific Coast.. 45° (northern Oregon) 34° (Los Angeles)
Interior cee. 30° (northern Gulf) 26° (southeast Texas)
Atlantic Coast.. 35° (Hatteras) 29° (northern Gulf)

From a practical point of view it may be said that snow
does not occur in sufficient amount to lie unmelted on the ground
south of San Francisco on the lowlands of the Pacific Coast, or
south of Cape Hatteras on the Atlantic Coast. This statement,
however, does not hold for inland districts, or for elevated
areas. The southern boundary of a regular winter snow-cover,
in ordinary winters, may be put at about lats. 41°—42° in the
eastern United States, but occasional winters carry the snow-
cover a good deal farther south. It is one of the marked climatic
characteristics of the eastern United States that snow not infre-

11 Loc. cit., footnote 6, pp. 58-59.

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 405

quently occurs unusually far south, in districts which have very
mild winters.

The most striking general facts on the snowfall map are the
effects of the topography in causing very heavy snowfalls on the
western flanks of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade Ranges (ex-
ceeding 400 inches over considerable areas); the “snow-
shadow” effect of this western mountain barrier in causing a
decrease in the depths of snowfall over the interior plateau dis-
tricts as a whole, with larger amounts over the mountains and
higher plateaus; the heavy snows of the Rocky Mountain sys-
tem, averaging considerably less than on the Pacific Coast moun-
tains, but amounting to more than 100 inches over fairly large
areas even as far south as northern New Mexico, reaching over
300 inches in southern Wyoming and 400 inches in parts of the
Colorado Rockies. East of the Continental Divide the snowfall
rapidly decreases again, the lines of equal depth extending in a
general east-and-west direction under the control of latitude.
The Appalachian mountains and plateaus carry the lines well to
the south (50-100 inches from Maine to Maryland), while the
warm waters of the Gulf Stream carry them northward along
the coast as far as Cape Hatteras. In the vicinity of the Great
Lakes, especially on their lee shores, and thence eastward along
the Canadian boundary as far as New England, there is a rela-
tively heavy snowfall (more than 100 inches in northern New
England and 80 to more than 100 inches on the lee shores of the
lakes). Including the higher altitudes, the annual snowfall
may be said to average roughly more than 20 inches over north-
ern and less than 20 inches over southern sections. Most of
this snow falls from December to March, but at the higher ele-
vations, and in the northern states, it begins as early as October
or even September, and falls as late as April or even May. In
general, topography is seen to be the most striking control in
the west, and latitude in the east.

THE SNOWFALL OF THE PACIFIC SLOPE

The snowfall over the lowlands of the Pacific Slope is of
little importance. It is very light, even in the north, and seldom
excites interest except when, at long intervals, snow falls in
southern districts where it is so uncommon as to be a curiosity,
or when, occasionally, a heavier fall than usual in the northern
districts causes comment. Snow is rare on the immediate coast
south of the northern boundary of California (latitude 42° N.),
but it is frequent on the mountains, even in southern California.

406 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

When snow does occur on the lower lands of southern Cali-
fornia, it seems always to fall with hail, sleet or rain.

Interest is, however, naturally very great in what has for
years enjoyed the distinction of being the area of heaviest snow-
fallin the United States. This area, which is clearly indicated
on the snowfall map, is on the western slopes of the high Sierras
of California, and has been closely studied along the line of the
Southern Pacific Railroad which connects Sacramento, Cal., and
Reno, Nev. Recent discussions by Professor A. G. McAdie??
and Andrew H. Palmer?® have brought out many interesting
facts regarding this remarkable snowfall.

Over an elongated area of considerable extent stretching
along the windward (western) upper slopes of the mountains,
the average annual snowfall is over 400 inches, i. e., over 30 feet
deep. Another area, also with over 400 inches, is found over the
Cascade Mountains in northern Washington, but has not yet
been intensively studied. The average annual snowfall at Sum-
mit, Cal. (7,017 ft.), for 44 years, is 419.6 inches, and the
average for 8 years at Tamarack (8,000 ft.) is 521.3 inches.
During the winter of 1879-80, 788 inches of snow fell at Sum-
mit, and in 1889-90, 776 inches. At Tamarack, in 1910-11, 757
inches fell. The depth on the ground (9-year average) has been
determined as follows (T, Tamarack; S, Summit) :

INCHES
Dec. 1 Jan. 1 Feb. 1 Mar. 1 Mar. 15 Mar. 31
id VER SR eT ea 19 62 165 183 194 192
mT tala vee ener 9 44 122 127 140 118

The total precipitation as rain and melted snow is 48.1 inches
at Summit and 57.5 inches at Tamarack. These totals by no
means represent a very heavy annual precipitation. The signif-
icant fact is the proportion of the whole which falls as snow.
The Pacific Slope has dry summers and a well-marked winter
maximum of precipitation.. This maximum results from a com-
bination of various factors, among which the more important
are the general winter storms and the prevalence of moisture-
laden onshore winds which, in ascending the then cold slopes of
the higher mountains, are cooled to temperatures below freez-
ing. This winter maximum is very distinct over the lowlands
and valleys, but is less marked at the higher levels. The in-
crease in annual precipitation with increase of altitude, which

12 See footnote 3.

13 Andrew H. Palmer, “The Region of Greatest Snowfall in the
United States,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 43, 1915, pp. 217-220, with illustrations.

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 407

is a general characteristic of mountains, is rapid up to a certain
height, after which the rate lessens, and finally there is a de-
crease in precipitation with altitude. A maximum amount of
rainfall, including melted snow, is reached at between 6,000
and 7,000 feet.

Railroad operation in this region shows many responses to
the heavy snowfall, as all travellers over the Southern Pacific
route, through Summit, well know. The famous “thirty miles
of snowsheds ”’ cost $42,000 a mile over single track and $65,000
over double track. About $150,000 is spent annually for upkeep
and renewals. The life of a shed averages a little over twenty
years. Fire-fighting trains are kept always in readiness in case
the sheds take fire, which they often do. The weight of the snow
is so great that sections of the sheds occasionally collapse. A
heavy rain and snow gauge has been completely crushed by the
snow, and a fence made of two-inch boiler flues has been bent.
The gables of the houses are all built at sharp angles, so that the
snow may slide off. Some very recent observations on Mt.
Rainier, Wash., indicate that the snowfall in that district is
extraordinarily heavy.'t Daily records of snowfall were kept
during most of the season of 1916-17 at Paradise Inn, on the
south slope of Mt. Rainier, at an elevation of 5,500 feet. Ob-
servations were not begun until November 24, 1916, but from
that date until the last snowstorm before midsummer, 1917, the
total depth of snowfall was 789.5 inches. The record at Para-
dise Inn is the first which has been obtained west of the summit
of the Cascades in Washington at so great an elevation. The
railroads cross the mountains at comparatively low levels. The
season of 1916-17 does not appear to have been one of unusually
heavy snowfall, nor is Paradise Inn located at what would theo-
retically seem to be the region most favorable for a maximum
precipitation. It is not unlikely, therefore, that still deeper
snows will eventually be recorded at greater altitudes than 5,500
feet on Rainier, which may some day deprive the Sierra Nevada
of California of the distinction of having the greatest snowfall
in the United States.

The importance of the water-supply from the melting snows
of the higher mountains on the Pacific Slope cannot be over-
estimated. Millions of dollars’ worth of water, for irrigation,
for power, and for general city and domestic use, are obtained
each year from these snows. Without them, most of the valleys
and lowlands on the coast would be unable to support their

14 Lawrence Foster, “ Snowfall on Mt. Rainier,” Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol.
46, 1918, pp. 327-330.

408 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

present crops, and the population of the region would never
have attained its present numbers.

SNOWFALL OVER THE WESTERN PLATEAU REGION

Over the western plateau area, between the Sierra Nevada-
Cascade ranges on the west and the Continental Divide of the
Rocky Mountains on the east, most of the winter precipitation
comes in the form of snow. The essential features of the snow-
fall distribution are the general decrease over the valleys and
less elevated portions from 20 to 30 inches in the north to less
than 5 inches and even to 0 inches in the south. Over these
districts of light snowfall the ground usually does not remain
covered many days at a time, and in the region of the lower
Colorado River, in southwestern Arizona and southeastern Cali-
fornia, snow is rarely seen except on the mountains. The moun-
tains and more elevated plateaus have decidedly heavier snows.
A maximum of over 400 inches is reached in some parts of
Colorado; of 300 inches in southern Wyoming, and of over 100
inches in many places from Idaho and Montana on the north to
northern New Mexico on the south. The snowfall in the Colo-
rado mountains is much greater than the summer rainfall, and
comes largely in the spring months. Most of the rivers of the
plateau states have their sources in the higher mountains, and
the slow melting of the snows, which usually last well into the
summer, supplies these streams with water which is essential for
irrigation. The maximum stream-flow ordinarily comes in late
spring or early summer, when the melting of the mountain
snows is most rapid. It is a saying among the Indians of Ari-
zona that when the last snow disappears from the mountain
tops, the late summer rains are about to begin.

SNOWFALL ON THE GREAT PLAINS

Lying to leeward of the Rocky Mountains, and being far
from any considerable source of water vapor, the plains inevi-
tably have relatively little snowfall. Their total annual precipi-
tation is less than 20 inches, and most of this falls in summer.
Thus winter is a dry season, and the snowfall which it brings is
light. Even in the extreme north, where the winters are very
cold and practically all the precipitation of the five or six colder
months is in the form of snow, the average annual snowfall is
under 50 inches. The winter storms do not, as arule, give much
snow. Even the “blizzards” are not usually accompanied by
heavy snows. They are dangerous to cattle, and occasionally

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 409

to human beings, because of the bitter cold of their northerly
winds, and because these same winds carry fine ice spicules and
are also filled with blowing snow which makes it difficult or im-
possible to see. Severe blizzards are, as a matter of fact, not as
common as most people think. A whole winter sometimes
passes without a typical blizzard.

Over the southern plains, owing to the warmer winters, the
snowfall decreases to less than 10 inches, and even to less than 5
inches in western Texas and southern New Mexico. The num-
ber of days with snowfall also decreases, from an average of 40
or 50 in the north to 5 or 10 in Oklahoma, and to less than 5 in
extreme southwestern Texas.

It is a characteristic of the snowfall over the northern plains
that most of it falls at temperatures well below freezing. For
this reason it is light and dry, and is easily carried by the strong
winds, which blow it into ravines and other depressions, leaving
the ranges for the most part bare and accessible for grazing.
In the south, the snow soon melts under the warm sun.

Over the mountains which border or interrupt the plains, it
snows more frequently and during a longer season. The melt-
ing of these deeper snows furnishes much of the water which is
used for irrigation along the rivers flowing to the eastward
towards the Mississippi.

SNOWFALL OF THE EASTERN UNITED STATES

In the eastern half of the country, the dominant control over
snowfall is latitude, as is evidenced by the general east and west
trend of the lines of equal depth of snow on the map. Subordi-
nate, but nevertheless important controls are found in the
effects of topography (Appalachians, Adirondacks, White Mts.
of New Hampshire); of the frequency of cold, damp storm
winds (Great Lakes and northeastern sections), and of the
warm waters of the Gulf Stream (southern Atlantic coast).
The depth of snow decreases to the west of the lakes because
winter is there a relatively dry season, and to the south because
of the higher temperatures. A detailed study of the snowfall of
the eastern United States has been made by Dr. Charles F.
Brooks. This shows clearly the local modifications which re-

15 Charles F. Brooks, “ The Snowfall of the Eastern United States,”
Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 43, 1915, pp. 2-11. Includes original charts showing
the average depths of snowfall by months, from September to May; the
average annual snowfall (1895-1913) ; the average annual number of days
with snowfall; the mean annual, maximum and minimum annual, and ex-
treme annual range of snowfall about the Great Lakes, for the period
1895-1910; also monthly charts showing the directions of the snow-bear-
ing winds.

410 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sult from the topography and from exposure to damp winds.
More snow is seen to fall on the western than on the eastern
slopes of the Appalachians, except in Vermont.

Over the northern tier of states in the eastern half of the
country snow is a factor of considerable economic importance,
especially over northeastern sections where the depths are
greatest. Sleighing is often possible for weeks at a time in
winters of abundant snowfall, the depth of snow on the ground
reaching two or three feet in certain sections. Such snows
greatly facilitate the lumbering industry by making it possible
to use heavy sledges for hauling the logs out of the forests.
“Open winters,” on the other hand, make lumbering difficult
and expensive. Warm winter rains are especially character-
istic of the Atlantic coast sections and naturally occur with in-
creasing frequency toward the south, quickly melting any snow
which happens to be lying on the ground. In the spring months,
heavy rains of this type, or unseasonably high temperatures un-
accompanied by rains, not infrequently cause a very rapid melt-
ing of the deeper snows lying in the mountains, and produce
freshets and floods in the Ohio and other river systems of the
northeast.

The season of snowfall over northern sections is a long one.
Snow in measurable amounts may fall as early as October, or
even in September in the White Mountains of New Hampshire
and in the Adirondacks, and as late as May. Indeed, snow-
storms of considerable intensity have occurred in April, but the
heaviest snowfalls usually come in February, or at times early
in March. The general snow-cover advances as a whole from
north to south with the advance of winter, very irregularly and
often with many retrogressions as well, its southern margin
being uneven and broken under the control of varying condi-
tions of topography, storm control and temperature. It usually
reaches its southermost limits in January or in February, and
then retreats northward again. This seasonal advance and re-
treat, with its many irregularities, can be studied to advantage
on the Ice and Snow Bulletins of the Weather Bureau.

Towards the south, as latitudes of milder winters are
reached, the season during which snow may fall becomes shorter
and shorter. Less and less of the precipitation of the colder
months falls as snow, and more and more comes in the form of
snow and rain mixed, and then of rain. The number of days
with snowfall decreases. Thus, while days with snowfall aver-
age over fifty a year over most of the Lake region and St. Law-
rence Valley, including northern New England, there is an

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 411

average of only one day with snowfall along a line reaching from
southeastern North Carolina to south of Vicksburg, Miss. (fif-
teen years). The mountainous section of all the southern states
which are crossed by the Appalachians have more days with
snowfall, and more snow than the surrounding lowlands and
valleys. There are, for example, fifty days with snowfall a year
as far south as Elkins, W. Va., but the accumulation of snow is
not sufficiently great to be a factor in causing dangerous spring
floods as is the case farther north. With decreasing latitude,
snow lies on the ground less and less of the time, and soon be-
comes an almost, and then an entirely, negligible factor. When
it falls over much of the South, it is merely a matter of tempor-
ary discomfort, melting soon. Southern South Carolina is prac-
tically exempt from snowfall. In Georgia, snow, when it falls,
melts almost immediately, although it may remain on the
ground a few days in sheltered places in northern sections of the
state. It is not an uncommon occurrence for a season to pass
without snow enough to cover the ground over the northern
portions of the northern gulf coast states. Farther inland, as,
e. g., in Tennessee, the ground is rarely covered more than a
very few days at a time, but unusually heavy snowstorms, at
long intervals, may result in a snow-cover which lasts a week, or
even more.

Over the sections immediately adjacent to the Gulf of
Mexico, snow becomes practically negligible. Occasionally, at
long intervals, there are measurable amounts in northern and
even central Florida. The gulf sections of Alabama, Mississippi
and Louisiana have a 15-year average of less than one inch, and
an average of less than 1 day with snowfall annually. Years
may go by without any snow along the Texas coast and in the
lower Rio Grande Valley. Much interest attaches to the occa-
sional occurrence of unusual snowfalls in the south. During
spells of exceptional cold, snow may fall to the depth of a good
many inches at various localities along the southern Atlantic
and Gulf coasts, and with diminishing depth even as far as ex-
treme southeastern Texas. On such occasions, thousands of
people witness their first snowstorm.

SLEET AND ICE STORMS

Sleet and ice storms are so closely associated with snow-
storms in the eastern United States that it is often difficult to
forecast snow because a storm of sleet or ice may occur instead.
According to the present Weather Bureau definition, sleet is
precipitation that occurs in the form of frozen or partly frozen

412 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

rain. It is formed by rain falling through a relatively warm
stratum into or through another stratum which is cold enough
to freeze some or all of the rain drops. When, under these gen-
eral conditions, rain drops fall to the earth’s surface and freeze
on coming in contact with solid objects on that surface, an ice-
storm results. Telegraph, telephone and trolley wires, trees,
sidewalks and streets are then covered with an icy coating.
Service is thus often interrupted because of broken wires, and
transportation becomes difficult or dangerous by reason of
slippery rails and streets. Considerable damage is often done
to forest and fruit trees by suchice-storms. Mr. Verne Rhoades,
of the U. S. Forest Service, has called attention to the wide-
spread damage caused by a single ice-storm in the southern
Appalachians,?® and Mr. W. W. Ashe, Forest Inspector of the
Forest Service, has pointed out that the damage done by these
storms is such that the dates of past ice-storms may be deter-
mined by an examination of the trees. In the case of trees
damaged by a recent ice-storm along the Blue Ridge Mts., in
Amherst Co., Va., evidence was found of injury by two previ-
ous storms, about 14 and 35 years, respectively, before the
last one.*7 Professor H. C. Frankenfield, of the Weather
Bureau, has recently made a study of sleet and ice storms in
the United States.§

The region of maximum frequency is over a broad central
belt reaching from west of the Mississippi eastward and north-
eastward to the Atlantic. This is, in general, the portion of the
country which is crossed by the principal storm areas, with
their cold northerly winds to the north and warm southerly
winds on the south of their centers. These conditions are essen-
tial to sleet formation. Severe sleet storms may occur from
November to March, inclusive, and occasionally in April and
October to the north of the 42d parallel. It appears that steep
northward temperature gradients, and high temperatures over
the Gulf and South Atlantic States are necessary for sleet
formation, and are usually absent before and during heavy
snows. Surface temperatures preceding sleet and ice storms
are below freezing, usually between 22° and 28°, and the high

16 Verne Rhoades, “Ice Storms in the Southern Appalachians,” Mo.
Wea. Rev., Vol. 46, 1918, pp. 373-374.

18H. C. Frankenfield, “‘Sleet and Ice Storms in the United States,”
Proc. 2d Pan. Amer. Sci. Congr., Vol. 2, Section 2; Astronomy, Meteorol-
ogy, and Seismology, pp. 249-257 (discussion, pp. 252-257). Washington,
D. C., 1917. (Gives a map showing the average annual frequency of sleet
and ice storms, and typical weather maps favorable for their occurrence.)

17 [bid.

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 413

temperatures in the south which precede the sleet are accom-
panied by southeasterly to southerly winds.

The ice-storms of New England have been discussed in some
detail by Brooks,’* who has based his study chiefly on the very
complete records obtained at Blue Hill Observatory, Mass., and
has included a consideration of upper-air conditions. Three
general types of wind conditions produce ice-storms. These
are (1) warm air arriving over residual cold air (“‘ southerly”
type); (2) cold air coming in below and warm air arriving
above (“northeasterly ” type); (3) cold air pushing in from
the north or west below a rain cloud (“northwesterly” type).
Classifying ice-storms according to the positions and move-
ments of the low and high pressure conditions (cyclones and
anticyclones) which produced them, there are seen to be two
large groups. The first includes storms with anticyclones in the
north dominating southern cyclones, and the second includes
those in which the cyclones and anticyclones were in regular
sequence.

Is SNOWFALL DECREASING?

There is a widespread popular belief in many parts of the
country, especially in the earlier settled sections of the north-
east, that less snow falls now than was the case years ago. In
New England, for example, it is customary to speak of the “ old-
fashioned New England winters” which brought many heavy
snowstorms; when snow lay on the ground uninterruptedly all
winter, and when sleighing was possible for three or four
months without a break. In a question of this kind it is, of
course, impossible, to put any confidence in general impressions
or in tradition. It is a mistake to place absolute trust in our
memories, and attempt to judge such subtle things as differ-
ences in snowfall on the basis of such memories, which are at
best short, defective, and in the highest degree untrustworthy.
The tendency inevitably is to exaggerate past events; to remem-
ber a few exceptional seasons which, for one reason or another,
made a deep impression on us, and very much to overrate some
special event. Individual severe winters which, as they occur,
are some years apart, seem, when looked back upon from a dis-
tance of several years later, to have been close together. It is
much as in the case of the telegraph poles along a railroad track.
When we are near the individual poles, they seem fairly far

19 Charles F. Brooks, “ The Ice Storms of New England,” Annals
Astron. Obsy. Harv. Coll., Vol. 73, Pt. 1, 4to, Cambridge, Mass., 1914, pp.

8, pls. 2 (Abstract in Mo. Wea. Rev., Vol. 42, 1914, pp. 455-457) ; “ Three
Ice Storms,” Science, Aug. 8, 1918, pp. 193-194.

414 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

apart, but when we look down the track, the poles seem to stand
close together. The difference in the impressions upon youth-
ful and adult minds may account for part of this popular belief
in changes of climate. To a youthful mind a heavy snowstorm
is a memorable thing. It makes a deep impression, which lasts
long and which, in later years, when snowstorms are just as
heavy, seems to dwarf the recent storms in comparison with
the older.

Changes of residence may account for some of the prevail-
ing ideas about changes of climate. One who was brought up
as a child in the country, where snow drifts deep and where
roads are not quickly broken out, and who later removes to a
city, where the temperatures are slightly higher, where the
houses are warmer, and where the snow is quickly removed
from the streets, naturally thinks that the winters are milder
or less snowy than when he was a child.

The only reliable evidence is that which rests upon instru-
mental records. Accurate instruments, properly exposed and
carefully read, do not lie; do not forget; are not prejudiced.
When such instrumental records, scattered though they are,
and difficult as it is to draw general conclusions from them, are
carefully examined, from the time when they were first kept in
this country, which in a few cases goes back a century or more,
there is found no evidence of any progressive change in the
amount of snowfall. Some winters now bring deeper snows
and greater cold, while others are mild and ‘“‘open.” These
variations result from differences in the numbers, intensity
and paths of winter storms, as is clearly seen by a study of the
daily weather maps. This same sort of variability was char-
acteristic of the past, and will continue forever. In other
words, a mild winter with light snowfall is just as “old-
fashioned ” as one with severe cold and heavy snowfall. There
were plenty of both kinds of winters in the past. There will be
plenty of both kinds in the future.

In his “Climatology of the United States,” which was a
standard publication in its day (1857), Lorin Blodget, in a
chapter on the “‘Permanence of the Principal Conditions of
Climate,” speaking of the evidence for and against climatic
change, held that “real history would be more valuable than
anything else if it could be relied on, but there is great looseness
with much exaggeration in everything dating back beyond the
use of instruments.” Blodget believed that ‘“the Northmen
found the New England coast 860 years ago quite precisely the

SNOWFALL OF THE UNITED STATES 415

same in climate as now—wild vines growing in a very few of
the most favored spots, and only in these.”

Dr. Hugh Williamson is quoted as saying, in 1770, that the
winters of the last half-century had been milder than formerly,
and Professor Samuel Williams, of Harvard College, whose lec-
tures were among the foundation-stones of American meteorol-
ogy, asserted that “the winter is less severe, cold weather does
not come on so soon.” These views sound singularly like those
which are heard expressed nowadays. It so happens that the
early settlers of New England made a special point of keeping
a chronicle of weather conditions, so that we have a record of
the character of the seasons running back over three centuries.
When these old accounts are examined, it at once becomes ap-
parent that New England had precisely the same variability in
its winters in the earlier days of its settlement as now. There
are accounts of great cold; of deep snows; of violent winter
storms. There are also many descriptions of very mild and
open winters. Thus, we read of December and January resem-
bling May and June; of flowers growing in the woods in mid-
winter; of so little snowfall “‘as scarcely to give opportunity
for enjoying the music of the sleigh-bells’’; of “green Christ-
mases ”; of “‘ winter turned into summer ”’; of the “ ground bare
for the most part”’; of little ice; of crocuses up, of wild violets
in bloom, and of lilacs “‘ throwing out their leaves” in January.

It has been well pointed out that if a list were compiled of
heavy snowstorms, of droughts, of floods, of severe cold, of mild
winters, of heavy rains, and of other similar meteorological
phenomena, for one of the early-settled portions of the United
States, beginning with the date of the first white settlements
and extending down to the present day, we should have the fol-
lowing situation. Dividing this list into halves, each division
containing the same number of years, it would be found, speak-
ing in general terms, that for every mild winter in the first half
there would be a mild winter in the second; for every long-con-
tinued drought in the first division there would be a similar
drought in the second; for every “ old-fashioned ”’ winter in the
first group there would be an “old-fashioned” winter in the
second. And so on, through the list. In other words, weather
and climate have not changed from the time of the landing of
the Pilgrims down to the present day.

416 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION—II

By Professor JAMES HENRY BREASTED
THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

HE evidence for the possession of domestic animals is not as
old as that for agriculture. The bodies from the earliest

Egyptian cemeteries contain fragments of bones of mammals,
but there is no way to prove that these necessarily small frag-
ments belonged to domesticated mammals. Nevertheless, the
results of long continued selective breeding demonstrate the
remote origin of domestic animals in the Nile valley. At the
same time the monuments reveal the Egyptians as persistently
practising domestication far down in the historic age.

Pre-dynastic reliefs (Fig. 24)to be dated not later than the
middle of the fourth millennium B.c., already show us three of
the commonest domestic animals, the donkey, sheep and cattle.
The domesticated donkey of Egypt was long ago demonstrated
by Schweinfurth and others to have had its original home in
northeast Africa and to have been domesticated on the Nile.
Its wild ancestor, Asinus txniopus, or the steppe ass, is still
found as far north as the mountains of southern Nubia."®

The sheep shown in this carving still display primitive char-
acteristics, carried over into the domesticated state, e. g., stand-
ing ears and a mane, and the female with horns, which she later
lost. They have been identified as Ovis longipes palxoxgypticus
by Duerst and Gaillard. Their nearest relatives, as both these
two scientists admit, are still scattered over north and north-
east Africa to-day. It is the more remarkable that these two
paleontologists would draw this sheep from Asia. Lortet, on
the basis of far more material, states that this sheep (Ovis
longipes pal.) with transverse horns, spirally twisted, has so
many and so widely distributed relatives in north Africa, that
he must be considered as indigenous there.?®

Regarding the large cattle shown here the paleontologists
have differed widely, with perhaps a majority maintaining his
Asiatic origin, due to the fact that they were unable to find an
unmistakable wild ancestor in Africa. His alleged Asiatic
origin has been commonly asserted in popular books, coupled
with such a remote date for his domestication, and his intro-

18 Schweinfurth, Zeitschr. f. Ethn., 44, 1912, pp. 653-654.

19 Lortet-Gaillard, “La Faune Momifiée de l’ancienne Egypte,” Lyons,
1905, p. 100.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 417

duction into Egypt by some mysterious and unidentifiable im-
migrants alleged to have brought in Egyptian civilization from
Asia, that we now find a widely circulating popular statement,
to the effect that the Asiatic origin of Egyptian domestic ani-
mals has demonstrated the Asiatic origin of Egyptian civili-
zation.

Both the monuments and the still largely unexplored Pleis-
tocene strata of Egypt contain much evidence on this question.

Fic. 24. EGYPpriaAN RELIEF CARVED IN SLATE, DATING ABOUT THE MIDDLE OF

THE FourRTH MILLENNIUM, B.c. Showing domesticated sheep (below), donkeys (mid-
dle), and cattle (above), captured from the Libyans. Now in the National Museum
at Cairo.

It quickly disposes of the Asiatic origin of these long-horned
cattle. Much inscriptional evidence has shown that the Egyp-
tians practised the hunting of wild cattle, but a relief in Beni-
hasan which shows these cattle as spotted has led to the conclu-
sion that such alleged wild cattle were really domestic breeds
which had escaped from captivity and were running wild. The
discovery of a relief of the Pyramid Age showing a hunting
enclosure (Fig. 25) filled with game to be brought down by
the royal arrows, has effectually disposed of this conclusion.
Among the game entrapped in the enclosure we find a cow, a

VOL. ViI.— 27.

418 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

>

Vie OF peices Yor |
a \3 BA BaF
Se eee

Fic. 25. ANCIENT EGYPTIAN RELIEF SHOWING A ROYAL HUNTING ENCLOSURE
FILLED WITH WOUNDED ANIMALS. From the pyramid temple of Sahure, middle of
the 28th century B.c. (After Borchardt.)

calf and a bull, all of a red brown color with a lighter saddle.
These are unquestionably long-horned wild cattle, identified by
Hilzheimer as Bos africanus. Pleistocene wild cattle have been
proven to have existed in Algiers, and this evidence is now
supplemented by the discovery of the fragment of a head of
Bos primigenius in the Nile valley, in the Pleistocene deposits
of the Fayum. The presence of the Urus thus demonstrated in
Egypt has led Hilzheimer to recognize the wild cattle in this
hunting scene also as the Bos primigenius. In any case it is
totally gratuitous to identify any longer the long-horned cattle
of Egypt with an Asiatic species.

It is very instructive in this connection to notice that the
Egyptian continued his efforts at domestication on a wide range
of wild creatures, far down into the historic epoch. In the
scene under discussion (Fig. 25), dating from the middle of the
twenty-eighth century B.C., we see the enclosure, which has
been well said to be of itself a long step toward domestication.
Here have been caught the deer, the gazelle, the oryx, the
addax, and two varieties of goat. Of the leading Egyptian
antilopes only the ibex is lacking. The practice of capturing
these animals in an enclosure evidently very early showed the
Egyptian that he might in this way maintain a store of meat on
the hoof from which he could conveniently draw at will. In
this way, for example, the Tschuktchi of northeast Asia main-
tain herds of half-domesticated reindeer, which they employ
only as sources of flesh and skin clothing. These wild creatures
taken out of such enclosures alive were then stall-fed and par-
tially if not wholly domesticated. We see them in the tomb
reliefs between 3000 and 2500 B.c. (e. g., Fig. 26), along with
the long-horned Bos africanus, tied to their mangers and feed-
ing. Here are the goat (Hircus mambrinus), the gazelle (Ga-

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 419

zella dorcas), the addax (Addax nasomaculata), the oryx
(Oryx leucoryx) and remarkably enough, the hyena (Hyxna
striata).

The inscriptions confirm these relief pictures very conclu-
sively. A mortuary text of the Middle Kingdom (around 2000
B.C.) mentions ‘“ibexes which eat grain.” Similarly already
in the twenty-seventh century B.C., the tomb of Kegemni men-
tions ‘‘ stables of the plateau antilopes” (Fig. 27). There were
thus ‘‘ stables” for these creatures, parallel with the stables for
the large cattle, and designated by the same word. It is of
course a scene from one of these stables which shows these
animals eating at their mangers (Fig. 26).

These animals therefore formed a staple source of the food
supply and we find them in process of being slaughtered for
food, precisely as is done with the large cattle (Fig. 28). Hence
at an inspection of the cattle of an estate, these creatures which
we have never thought of as domesticated, duly appear together
with the long-horn cattle familiar to us as domestic animals
(Fig. 29).

Dix = \ Ae
a »
mt Te Wome

Fig. 26. STALL FEEDING OF SEMI-DOMESTICATED ANTILOPES (FIVE VARIETIES)
AND HYENAS, ALONG WITH CATTLE. Relief scene in the tomb of Mereruka at Sak-
kara, Egypt, 27th century B.c.

420 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 27. PORTRAIT OF A GREAT LORD OF THE PYRAMID AGE NAMED KEGEMNI.
Accompanied by his titles as * Chief of the Stables of Cattle and Chief of the Stables

of the Plateau Antilopes.” Relief in his tomb at Sakkara,
century B.C.

Egypt, 26th or 27th

In the same way, after domesticating varieties of the goose
and duck, the Egyptians captured a varied list of wild fowl
which they wholly or partially domesticated, although this list
did not include our barnyard fowl, which was introduced in the
west from India from the seventh century B.c. onward. It will
be seen, then, how widely extended and inclusive was the effort
of the Egyptians at domestication. They were still continuing
the task in historic times, and it went on throughout the third
millennium, if not much later.

It is evident from the conditions among their domestic cattle,
furthermore, that they had long been engaged in the process of

Pi 3

OTs “OREO. rem.

- Oz 1

: 7 aaa

Ue] Ya. 5

Fig. 28. PurercriInG OF SEMI-DOMESTICATED ANTILOPES,
KXEGEMNI. Compare Fig. 29.

SEOWN IN THE TOMB OF

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 421

Fig. 29. CATTLE INSPECTION INCLUDING SEMI-DOMESTICATED ANTILOPES ALONG
WITH DOMESTICATED CATTLE. As shown in reliefs from the tomb of Manofer, now in
the Berlin Museum (27th century B.c.).

Fig. 380. HORNLESS BREED OF EGYPTIAN CATTLE. From tomb relief at Gizeh,

29th century B.¢

422 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fie. 31. SKULL OF A HORNLESS BREED OF ANCIENT BGYPTIAN CATTLE. Taken
from an XIth Dynasty tomb (2160-2000 bB.c.). (After Lortet and Gaillard,
* Faune momifiée,”’)

breeding. For not only had they early developed a short-horn
variety out of the long-horn, which was not identical with the
Asiatic short-horn (Bos brachyceros), but at the same time
they also bred a hornless variety of cattle (Fig. 30) (Bos
akeratos). The actual skulls of this hornless breed have sur-
vived (Fig. 31).

A series examined by Lortet led him, like Duerst, to con-
clude that this hornless breed of cattle was the result of long
and persistent selective breeding, very intelligently carried on.
In this case we would have here a situation like that which we
found in the case of the domesticated grains. Wheat with ages
of selective cultivation behind it, has been found in the earliest
known graves in the world. Similarly the oldest domesticated
herds known to modern science, that is the oldest cattle in the
world, would, according to Lortet and Duerst, already include
a hornless breed produced by long-continued selective propaga-
tion.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 423

On the other hand Professor Charles B. Davenport, director
of the Department of Experimental Evolution of the Carnegie
Institution, has kindly informed me that “ hornlessness in cattle
has probably arisen many times as a sport or mutation,” and
might then be continued and perpetuated by selective breeding.
He concludes that the hornless breed of ancient Egypt arose
and was continued in this way. In either case intelligently
practised cattle-breeding on the part of the Nile dwellers at a
very early date is evident.

We can understand therefore, that the production of milk-
producing cattle was the result of long-continued and intelli-
gently directed selective breeding, already completed by 3000
B.c. That the milk breed had not yet become wholly accus-
tomed to the artificial abstraction of milk by the hand of man
is evident from the fact that in practically all such dairy scenes,
the hind legs of the cow have been elaborately tied (Fig. 32).
It is perhaps of importance to note also that the calf is kept in
the vicinity, and its eagerness for maternal food is restrained
by another herdsman while the milking process goes on.

It is thus evident that conditions both in agriculture and
cattle breeding in the Nile valley at the earliest stage when
they are observable by us, point clearly back to a long antece-
dent development, beginning far away in the remote ages when
the Nile dwellers lived on the lower alluvium, where the re-
mains of their life are still buried.

The domestication of cattle, like that of donkeys, reacted
powerfully on agriculture, as it was gradually discerned that
the hoe might be replaced by the ox-drawn plow. Nothing
shows more clearly the evolution of Egyptian civilization as a
Nile valley process, than the unnoticed fact that the plow drawn

Fig. 32. EGypriAn HERDSMEN MILKING. Relief scene in the tomb of Ti at Sakkara,
28th century B.c.

424 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 33. EGYPTIAN PEASANTS PLOWING. From a tomb relief of the 26th—27th
century B.c., now in the Louvre in Paris.

by oxen is simply the old prehistoric wooden hoe equipped with
necessary modifications. The primitive form of the Egyptian
plow is twice shown in the right-hand column of hieroglyphs in
the plowing scene in Fig. 33. Now it can be demonstrated that
Egyptian writing has preserved for us pictures of primitive
and archaic forms of every day implements, which survived
thus in the writing long after they had been displaced by im-
proved forms and hence had ceased to be used in real life.
Thus the inscription behind the plowman (Fig. 33) twice dis-
plays for us a tiny picture of a form of plow enormously older
than the one here shown in actual use. It will be seen that the
beam of the plow (in the inscription) is very short, and that
the handles are almost too small for use. Indeed this oldest
form of the Egyptian plow is little more than the hoe out of
which it has developed.

The wooden hoe of the Egyptian peasant (Fig. 34) was
made up of two pieces: one, the handle, abnormally short; the
other, the blade, disproportionately long. With the exception of
the tiny handles shown in the archaic plow just examined in
the writing, this hoe is identical with the plow.

An old Egyptian drawing of a plow of about 2000 B.c. (Fig.
34) exhibits clearly the origin of the implement. The handle
(of the hoe) has been lengthened to become the beam (of the
plow) while the handles for the plowman’s use have been sec-

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 425

ondarily attached at the point of junction of beam and hoe-blade
or plow-share. The builder really constructed a wooden hoe
with somewhat elongated handle as plow beam, and then after-
ward attached the plow handles, which do not engage with the
beam or the plowshare, as they would do if they were of one
construction with them.

These facts make it certain that the evolution of plow cul-
ture from hoe culture took place in the Nile valley. Indeed we
are here tracing in the gradually developing material basis of
life, a process which bears the stamp of the Nile valley, and is
unmistakably Nilotic throughout its course.

Here then, so far as we can see, for the first time in the
career of man, and at only one point in the fringe of hunting
life which encircled the whole Mediterranean, there grew up at
its southeast corner (Fig. 2) far back in the fifth millennium
before Christ, a community of Stone Age men who had grad-
ually shifted from the hunting life to that of herdsmen and
shepherds, plowmen and cultivators of the soil. While it may
have required over six thousand acres to support a hunter and
his family, a very few acres would maintain the grain-raising,
cattle-raising Stone Age family, and the population must have
greatly increased in numbers and in density. Such a body of
population following the agricultural and cattle-breeding life at
the southeast corner of the Mediterranean must inevitably have
exerted an influence on surrounding populations. Such a dif-
fusion as that which carried Central American culture traits

Fic. 34. AN EGYPTIAN WOODEN HOE AND THE WOODEN PLOW WHICH GREW OUT OF IT,

426 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

northward and southward until they penetrated far across both
North and South America must inevitably have taken place.
As to Europe this diffusion was all the easier, because the
elevation of the land which made England a part of the neigh-
boring continent, and joined Europe likewise to the mainland
of Africa through Italy and Spain—this elevation continued far
down into the Neolithic Age, and these land bridges must have
been available long after the advances of Egypt just discussed
were accomplished (Fig. 2). The same road by which the great
African mammals migrated from Africa to Europe was unques-
tionably still open when the Nile dwellers first began to culti-
vate fields of grain and breed herds of cattle. It is no accident
that the earliest grains of the Swiss Lake Dwellers were barley,
emmer and millet, just as in the Nile valley. We have only to
look at the dissemination of maize culture in North America
from a Central American center to see how easy and inevitable
such dispersion is. Moreover, we can actually trace cattle for
some distance on the road from Egypt to Europe.

As far back as the middle of the fourth millennium B.c. the
Libyans are shown by the Egyptian monuments to have pos-
sessed domesticated cattle, sheep and asses (Fig. 24). Such
livestock plunder captured by the Egyptians from the Libyans
is found in later reliefs also (Fig. 35), which show us large
cattle, donkeys, sheep and goats in the possession of a people
whose territory stretched far westward along the northern
coast of Africa toward Tunis and the region opposite Italy.
Thus in remote prehistoric times, Stone Age Europe so long re-
tarded by the ice and cold, began to profit by the progress of the
more favored and hence more advanced region at the southeast
corner of the Mediterranean. The Neolithic peoples of southern
and central Europe were thus able to make the transition from
the hunting life, to that of settled communities following agri-
culture and cattle-breeding. This Neolithic life of Europe, pre-
served to us especially in the Lake Villages of Switzerland and
the terramare settlements of the Po valley, was unable to ad-
vance by itself to the conquest of metal and the invention of
writing, and thus to gain civilization. While interesting, it is
of minor importance for the theme of these lectures. Entirely
dependent upon the eastern Mediterranean, this Neolithic cul-
ture of the West never swung into the current of civilized life
until after Greek and Phoenician colonization, and finally Roman
conquest gradually civilized it. Its chief importance for our
theme is its illustration of the earliest great contribution of the
Orient to Europe, as cattle and domesticated grain found their

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 427

way across the Mediterranean. The position of this contribu-
tion in the long continued westward drift of culture will be
found suggested later in Fig. 134.

It now seems to be exceedingly probable, if not a demon-
strated fact also, that the south and west European communi-

Soh 1 80 ) Bie:
a CELE RES ss Soe
oNed ) oe sr {Ree )

sh v a rx G )
PN SONIC) ay ON
Aa [fflises: “as

| PERT ERE AIRS —

{|

{ ay) APN any TN

Paar CDNA

Fig. 35. Domestic ANIMALS OF THE LIBYANS CAPTURED BY THE EGYPTIANS. (28th
century B.c.) Compare also Fig. 24. (After Borchardt.)

ties who inaugurated the Neolithic culture of Europe, were of
the same race as the prehistoric peoples on the south side of the
Mediterranean, or at least as these Egyptians whom we find in
the earliest cemeteries. Giving all due consideration to the
wide divergence of opinion among the physical anthropologists,
it would seem that the studies of Elliot Smith among the largest
series of prehistoric Egyptian bodies yet investigated, have
demonstrated clearly the identity or close affinity between these
prehistoric Egyptians and the south Europeans of the great
peninsulas, called by Sergi the Mediterranean race. As Smith
has shown in a restoration of a profile from an early pre-
dynastic skull (Fig. 36), and as we see also in a late pre-

428 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FIG. 36. PROFILE OF A PRE-HISTORIC EGYPTIAN (ABOVE) RESTORED FROM AN EARLY
PRE-DYNASTIC SKULL BY Dr, ELuior SMITH, AND HEAD OF A LATE PRE-DYNASTIC
STATUETTE. (The latter after Quibell, “ Hierakonpolis.”’)
dynastic statuette, the prehistoric Egyptians were a narrow-
headed, long-faced, dark-haired, and almost certainly dark-
eyed race. They were rather low in stature (the men a little
under 5 feet 5 inches; the women almost 5 feet), and they
were of slender build. They were not negro or negroid, and
their kin are to be found in Europe, rather than in Africa.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 429

It must have been after a very long career as a settled agri-
cultural and cattle-raising people, that these dweliers on the
Nile alluvium discovered and began to use metal. Unlike the
domestication of grain and cattle, the introduction of metal was
hardly earlier than the dawn of civilization. We can therefore
trace the incoming of metal as we cannot follow the rise of
agriculture and cattle-breeding. The graves of our early ceme-
teries (Fig. 22) disclose to us not merely cultivated grain and
domestic cattle, but also metal. For in the very earliest of the
predynastic graves we find copper needles with the eye pro-
duced by bending the butt around in a hook-eye (Fig. 37).
Copper beads and bracelets also show that the earliest use of
the metal was chiefly for ornaments. These needles are the
earliest implements of metal smelted and wrought by man; for
they carry this primitive and limited use of the metal back into
the fifth millennium B.c., that is back of 4000 B.c. Man thus
began to smelt and use metal about six thousand years ago.

Fic. 37. Copper NEEDLES WITH HOOK-EYEBS, THE EARLIEST KNOWN IMPLEMENTS

OF MeTAL. Such needles are found in Egyptian graves dating before 4000 B.c,
(After Reisner.)

Fic. 38. THE BARLIEST KNOWN METAL TOOLS: CHISELS OF COPPER FOUND IN PRE-
DYNASTIC EGYPTIAN GRAVES ABOUT 85TH CENTURY B.C, (Photo by Petrie.)

430 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Gradually the Nile-dwellers learned that the metal which
they were using for ornaments might be made into tools and
Weapons, giving them a new power over men and nature. With
tools and weapons like these (Fig. 38), which appear in the
late pre-dynastic graves by the middle of the fourth millennium
B.C., when all the world was elsewhere using only stone imple-
ments and weapons, the life of man entered upon a new epoch
and at the southeastern corner of the Mediterranean a mechan-
ically gifted people began to respond rapidly to the possession
of this new source of power. This response of an ingenious
people to the possession of metal culminated in the emergence
of a united nation, the first great social and administrative
structure erected by man, whose organized capacity was, half
a millennium later, to be expressed in monumental form in the
pyramids of Gizeh.

The process of political unification which went on among
the prehistoric petty kingdoms and chieftaincies distributed
along the Nile, is only dimly discernible in the scanty monu-
“ments surviving from this remote age. We see these early
leaders bearing pointed metal weapons in the hunt, for the
Nile-dwellers continued their old hunting habits for thousands
of years after the rise of civilization. Monuments from the
middle of the fourth millennium show us the Nile chieftains
still following the chase (Fig. 39). But even such a document
as this hunting scene (Fig. 39) also clearly discloses something
of the vast social and governmental progress made by the
earliest men, a progress which had carried them away from
reliance on the chase, toward the possession of a stable food

Fic. 39. NILE CHIEFTAINS OF THE MIDDLE OF THE FOURTH MILLENNIUM B.C.
ENGAGED IN HUNTING. Depicted in a relief on a slate palette used for grinding face
paint. (After Legge in Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archeology, Vol. XXII.)

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 4351

TT

‘
wilpr

Fic. 40. A ROYAL DIGGING CEREMONY OF EARLY DYNASTIC AGE DEPICTED IN A RELIEE
ON A CEREMONIAL MACE-HEAD. (From Quibell, “‘Hierakonpolis.”’)

supply available to large communities abiding in fixed dwelling
places. These hunting chieftains carry standards on which
are mounted symbols signifying political divisions—the earliest
such symbols known. We recognize in them prehistoric forms
some of which are well known to us in later hieroglyphic signs.
Thus the fifth hunter in the upper line carries a symbol mean-

452 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ing “the East” in the hieroglyphic of half a millennium later.
Each hunter also wears attached to his girdle behind, the tail of
a wild animal—a symbol retained in historic times only by the
Pharaoh.

One of the most powerful influences toward unity and organ-
ized development in a rainless climate like that of Egypt, was
the necessity of creating an ever more complicated irrigation
system. To maintain such a system, to keep each of its long
canals free from obstruction, and to control the supply of
water, required the cooperation of large groups of communi-
ties, created a consciousness of community of interest and a
willingness to submit to a central authority in control of the
whole. One of the ancient prehistoric rulers shown in Fig. 40
beside a canal wielding an archaic wooden hoe, is evidently
engaged in ceremonially digging up the earth, for which his
attendant holds a basket. Such a ceremonial act may well
have marked the beginning or dedication of some irrigation
canal. Thus the possession of grain fields, and the maintenance
of herds which must be pastured, bound great groups of com-
munities to a common system for the support of the whole,
which could never have grown up among the hunting chieftains
of earlier days.

By the middle of the forty-third century B.c., this system
had brought forth a calendar of twelve thirty-day months, and
five feast days at the end of the year. This is the calendar
which has descended to us through the Romans, though it
should be observed that the Egyptian rulers were far too prac-
tical to make a calendar which would oblige their people to
learn a verse of poetry in order to find out how many days there
were in a given month.

(To be continued)

AERIAL CROSSING OF THE OCEAN 433

THE MEANING FOR HUMANITY OF THE
AERIAL CROSSING OF THE OCEAN

By Dr. GEORGE de BOTHEZAT
AERODYNAMICAL EXPERT, NATIONAL ADVISORY COMMITTEE FOR AERONAUTICS

HE recent great achievements of the American and British
Ae aircrafts show in a striking manner that we are on the
eve of the establishment of regular transoceanic aerial voyages.
How many centuries, first of audacious dreams, afterwards of
daring efforts, were necessary, before this magnificent and
powerful realization!

Transoceanic aerial flight is such a powerful factor in
humanity’s progress and evolution that I fear the language
used to-day by human beings is scarcely adequate to describe the
magnificent destiny it will produce. This is why I ask indul-
gence for the audacity of this attempt to analyze the significance
of this majestic achievement.

In the aurora of the centuries taken for the blossoming of
humanity on our sorrowful planet, the evolution of man started -
very slowly. Left to himself, with only his physical forces to
lead him towards an unknown destiny, of whose greatness, how-
ever, he had an unconscious feeling, man would have succumbed
under the superiority of innumerable adversaries and adversi-
ties, if it had not been for the gleam of consciousness that was
smouldering within him. Itis the omnipotence of this conscious-
ness that has subdued the universe to man and has made
him its uncontested master. It is this consciousness that caused
the majestic process of biological evolution to take a new form.
The adaptation of the species to outside conditions was trans-
formed into the adaptation of outside conditions to the species,
and it is this modification of the biological path that marks the
origin of humanity.

The first steps were exceedingly slow and laborious. The
first conquests of prehistoric civilization stretch over an im-
mensity of time. But the different halting-places of history are
marked by a rate of progress more and more accelerated. It is
sufficient to open our eyes simply on our modern world to be
amazed by the rapid march of civilization. If, now, through all
past time, up to our present days, we contemplate this rapidly

VOL. VII.—28.

434 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

accelerating rate of progress, one primordial factor will appear,
which is the soul itself of this accelerated ascent towards a
destiny more and more luminous. It is the intensification of the
relations between men established by ways of communication.

As soon as the sedentary state of peoples began to succeed
the nomad state, the necessity of routes and their enormous util-
ity were instinctively felt; and animal locomotion, whose origin
disappears in the night of time, brought even in antiquity the
art of route building to a high degree of perfection. The great
civilizations of the ancient world were already celebrated for
their marvelous roads and maritime routes. Babylonia, Car-
thage, Greece and the Roman Empire developed majestic routes
which excite our admiration; and the traces of some of them
still remain. In the civilizations that followed these epochs, in
the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, it is easy to note that the
march of progress is intimately connected with the development
of ways of communication. This fact is generally expressed in
speaking of the influence of voyages, of the relations between
peoples and the discoveries of new ways and routes. The influ-
ence of the technical perfection of the ways of communication
is to be seen in a particularly striking manner in the century of
steam, marked by such a distinctly powerful progress.

It is impossible to note in a short sketch all the ways in
which methods of communication influenced the evolution of
humanity. An enormous work could be written on this subject.
The essential facts are that almost all human activity on our
planet consists in “ displacement,” and the more easily this dis-
placement is made the more the life of man is extended, and the
more powerful it becomes. Our life is built up from motion; to
open new routes is to hasten and strengthen its development.

One great factor dominates the whole problem of ways of
communication. It is “speed.” It is not sufficient to have
routes running in all directions and covering great distances;
it is all-important for the actual motion to be as rapid as pos-
sible. The great influence of speed in the social organization of
human activity is not always recognized sufficiently. For ex-
ample, one can mention the fact that Napoleon in the last years
of his power expressed some doubts as to the value of Stephen-
son’s railroads. We must not be astonished if the entire extent
of the influence of the speed factor is not realized by all, prob-
ably because it is too vast in its majesty and power. But some
of us have within ourselves a feeling, more powerful than the
conscious reason, which instinctively tells us what speed is. Do
you know what speed intoxication is? Happy are those who can

AERIAL CROSSING OF THE OCEAN 435

feel it without having to understand it. It is the powerful voice
of the innate forces of progress speaking in them. It is the
intuition of the future all-inclusive power of humanity, of which,
as an echo of destiny, they have the sweet enjoyment. Do you
remember the glorious Greek warrior who immolated himself
to the speed god, bringing to his fellow-citizens the great news
of the Marathon victory, so that their knowledge of social secur-
ity might be hastened, even by only a few moments? This hero
of antiquity, by a striking act, has made immortal his venera-
tion for speed. Great men and great peoples have always paid
a worthy tribute to speed. A beautiful example is given by the
development of the United States, where the social importance
of the speed factor has been understood from the origin of the
country, a country which, in the hands of an energetic and
intrepid people, has been brought to that powerful and majestic
state which we can but admire.

Speed of transportation means acceleration of activity, in-
crease of the people’s efficiency, and, as a result, economy of
time, with all its enormous consequences. Saving of time
brings leisure for meditation and personal improvement, which
are the original sources of all progress.

Speed of transportation means also increase of human life-
time, which always was and is one of the most burning desires
of man, and hence one of his greatest felicities. To live means
to act, to feel and perceive. It is the amount of the perceptions
lived that marks the duration of a life-time more than the num-
ber of years elapsed. It is not given to us to increase the dura-
tion of our lives, but it depends upon us to use our lives better
and to fill them with more sensations. I am prepared to assert
that the life of a modern man is effectively longer than the life
of a man of antiquity, although of the same duration. We have
now more to live through, although we live no longer. Our
gathering of sensations is much ampler and much more diversi-
fied, and they emanate from a much wider horizon. Peter the
Great, that powerful reformer of Russia, has expressed this
deeply philosophical idea by the significant words: ‘ Waste of
time is death-like.”

Ask the scientist whether he considers the universe as
eternal or doomed to an indubitable end, and you will hear him
say that over the entire universe the sinister shadow of the
omnipotence of entropy is hovering, and demands an absolute
end by a complete thermic uniformization. If, now, not only
our personal life, but the course of all humanity is limited, let
us at least make the best use of the time left to us. Speed is

436 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

our most powerful ally. Let us use it, develop it, and venerate
it. It is in infatuation with it that is found the most powerful
source of happiness.

Another important réle is also inherent to the speed factor.
One of the great consequences of the establishment of ways of
communication is to bring men and peoples to know one another
better and consequently to understand each other better and to
unite their efforts in the great march of social evolution. The
greater the intensification of relations between peoples, the
more rapid is the speed of what can be called the uniformiza-
tion of humanity. In past times, geographical obstacles sepa-
rated men into different groups called peoples. The conditions
under which the lives of different peoples were taking place
were unlike, and, although all associations of men, by their
nature, progress in the same direction, it is with such dissimilar
psychological physiognomies, that, when these different peoples
in the process of their evolution were brought together, they
could only fight one another to death, each considering the
other as his worst enemy. Men did not recognize man in men.
But the evolution of man progressing, and distances being con-
quered by ways of communication, the uniformization of hu-
manity was growing. It is first the uniformization of social
customs and material living conditions that is established.
Afterwards the uniformization of morality and psychology be-
gins to appear. It is self-evident that social uniformization
does not at all bring with it the uniformization of individuals,
whose personality is fixed by the qualities and talents given to
each man by nature. The great wrong of the Bolsheviki doc-
trine! is that it has completely overlooked the difference be-
tween social uniformization and individual uniformization.
Regardless of what men will think or do, the whole of humanity
will tend towards social uniformization, but individual uni-
formization is and always will be a tendency contrary to the
nature of things and progress. That is why, regardless of the
development it may reach, Bolshevism is doomed to failure or
complete reformation. I will not dwell here on the question of
how social organization has to be conceived in agreement with
the principle of social uniformization; this would carry us too
far from our main subject. Now this fundamental process of
social uniformization is far from being accomplished on our
planet. But I would like to believe that the Great War, from

1 The author of this paper has lived for six months under Bolsheviki
rule and is well acquainted with Bolsheviki doctrine and its practical
realization.

AERIAL CROSSING OF THE OCEAN 437

which we are still bleeding, marks one of its last halting-places.
The World’s Peace, the universal social union, will only then be
able to reign in all its luminous beauty when the process of
social uniformization shall have reached a certain stage of
development. The most powerful stimulant to universal social
uniformization is above all the closeness of international rela-
tions. The more rapid are the means of communication, the
more will all peoples be, 30 to speak, neighbors to one another,
the more will they jostle one another and be able to know and
appreciate each other, and the great universal human family
will rise the more rapidly. The century of steam and electricity
has already brought the universe to such a state of development
that we see on the horizon the dawn of a universal league,
somewhat rachitic, but let us hope still a league of nations. It is
a wonderful thought indeed, in our epoch of sharp hate and
underhanded revenge, to see the great country of America, in a
magnanimous glow in advance of the men and the times, claim-
ing with its powerful voice the union of people in the League of
Nations. Universal harmony is the highest ideal of every man
conscious of his destiny. Let us help those who have not until
now reached the social height necessary to step over the mar-
velous threshold of the future kingdom of mutual agreement
and friendship.

The life of man goes on surrounded by three “elements”:
earth, water and air. Each of these may be used as a way of
communication.

On the earth we must trace our routes, and when these are
once established we must always follow them. Terrestrial
routes have passed through different well-known stages of
development and have now reached a high degree of perfection,
in the sense of speed as well as in weight of material trans-
ported. But whatever improvements may be realized in terres-
trial routes, the fact will always remain that the roads have to
be built, and when built they remain limited to their original
itinerary, and unite only different parts of the same continent.

Water ways have the advantage over land ones of being
furnished by nature; and in the immensity of the seas and
oceans ships and boats are free to follow all directions. But
the hatreds between men, even here, have created insuperable
hindrances; some think, for the advantage of the one and the
harm of the other, but in reality for the disaster of all human-
ity. Moreover, water ways unite only different parts of differ-
ent continents, or, by rivers, give only a limited access within
the continents.

438 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The conquest of the air, the marvelous realization of the
end of the twentieth century, has finally given us the aerial way
of communication, the first to be universal. Air routes have
absolute advantage over earth and sea routes, for instance, in
the attainment of greater speed, and the possibility of travel
at different altitudes. This last factor can never be overesti-
mated, on account of the new features it introduces. At least
there has been acquired by it the possibility of looking on our
planet from a higher standpoint, and many consequences of
great importance will follow from this bird’s vision given to
man’s brains. It has been during long centuries the dream of
humanity to fly over seas and lands, to travel through space in
rapid flight, following only the will of fancy. But, the first
enthusiasm past, when airplanes and airships began to fly,
their range appeared to be less than the expectations of the
dreamers. Aircraft could fly over earth and seas, but the
oceans still remained obstacles to them. And although we felt
the possibility of flight over the ocean, we were unable to real-
ize it. The universality of the air routes still remained un-
realized. But the scientific and technical workers and investi-
gators by their indefatigable efforts have brought aircraft to
such a degree of perfection that finally the immensity of the
ocean has been overcome. From this moment on, aircraft has
become really the first universal way of communication. I can
not refrain from mentioning here some of the glorious names
of those men to whom humanity owes the great technical devel-
opment of aviation.

It was probably the British mathematician Cayley who had
the first vision of the airplane (1809). It was the French
mathematician Penaud who reached such an understanding of
aerodynamical sustentation that he was able to build the first
airplane model that actually flew (1872). But it was the Ger-
man engineer Lillienthal who first reached the wonderful result
of making the air really lift him, as he demonstrated in a bril-
liant series of gliding flights (1891). It was Langley and
Chanute who, by remarkable experiments, strengthened the
principles established by Lillienthal. And finally, it was the
brothers Wright who succeeded in taking the decisive step and
realized that marvelous thing, the airplane (1903). In the
European countries it is to the powerful personality of Ferber
that we owe the development of aviation. In a remarkable
book? left by this scientist and gallant prophet of aviation we

2. Ferber, “ L’Aviation, ses debuts, son developpement,” Paris, 1908,
published by Berger-Levrault.

AERIAL CROSSING OF THE OCEAN 439

read his forecast: ‘‘ From hill to hill, from town to town, from
continent to continent.” It is the realization of these beautiful
words that we have now reached.

We thus find ourselves now on the eve of the establishment
of great universal aerial voyages, transoceanic as well as trans-
continental; and with them, by the power of the intensification
of the relations between peoples, we will progress towards uni-
versal harmony, and approach, in spite of obstacles, a luminous
destiny at a rate of progress unknown before.

Let all who still doubt the all-powerful influence of universal
air routes think only a little of your daily activity, and you can
not help being enthusiastic about all the new and wonderful
possibilities that the development of air navigation will give
you. Whoever you are, air navigation will load you with its
powerful benefits. If you are a business man or merchant, one
of those who have appreciated better than others the speed
factor, think for a minute that you will have the neighboring
continents at a day’s distance from you. Your associates from
other continents will be able to join you in twenty-four hours.
The samples that you may need will be delivered to you on your
request in the same length of time. You will be able to travel
over enormous distances at tremendous speeds, and scrutinize
enormous spaces by your spirit of enterprise. If you are an
engineer, scientist or investigator, you will be able to get the
necessary book, apparatus or information from any other part
of the world in a time less than previously required to get the
same from the same province. Think a little, you leaders of
human activity, of all the wonderful possibilities that will fol-
low from the new aerial universal ultra-rapid routes, and your
keen minds will not need to be convinced of the miraculous
activity of future destiny. And all you other less active mem-
bers of human society, in addition to the comfort, speed, and
security of the air routes, you will see flowing around, as from
a cornucopia, the products of welfare created by the active
members. But all these results just described are small details
in comparison with the new human psychology which will
progressively result from this era of activity at a rate unknown
before, and which without any doubt will reveal to the future
the superman of spirit, soul and beauty.

The crossing of the ocean by the airplane makes aircraft the
first universal means of transportation, and by this fact alone
opens a new era of civilization, with such an increased rate of
progress that it is almost impossible for the human mind of
to-day to appreciate its whole significance. Acceleration of

440 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

human activity will increase the world’s welfare; and at the
same time the resulting economy of time and individual liberty
will lead to the perfecting of the human race in a deep and in-
creasing feeling of happiness, the result of the intensification
and multiplicity of sensations, this whole wonderful process of
progressive evolution being crowned by the spirit of universal
harmony. Aircraft, having become by the crossing of the
ocean the universal means of transportation, thus appear as
one of the most sublime conquests of civilization, by whose
luminous destiny our poor imaginations can only be dazzled.
But this wonderful destiny, which we now foresee, whose
rising has begun and the means of reaching which we have
already in hand, will require a certain time for its blossoming.
Such delay in the realization of one of the most beautiful con-
quests of humanity is a consequence of what, with much indul-
gence, is called social inertia. I do not wish to enter into the
details and the analysis of this complex phenomenon, and will
mention only one of its most painful sides. I apologize for
stating the fact so directly. I am guided only by the desire to
bring in this way a more intensive feeling of what I intend to
say. Why do you, humanity, let yourself be governed by the
most ignorant among your fellow-creatures? I will explain
myself plainly. At the present time the social power, to a ©
crushing degree, is in the hands of what may be called the
“classical humanists.” Who are they? Independent of their
literary, juristical or other specialty, their mentality once
cleared from the sophistical fog with which they are so clever
in surrounding themselves; with their official logic, which is
nothing else than a brilliant example of reasoning to be used
when truth has to be avoided, we see them appearing only as
experts in the dismal art of knowing the degree of decay which
human nature can reach. It is exactly the contrary of what
we need the most, that is, to know what is the degree of per-
fection that humanity can reach. The ethics of the classical
humanist developed under such conditions is not in line with
sufficiently powerful and valuable ideals. This is why their
political activity provokes so often such social disaster. But
to-day we are standing on the eve of a marvelous new era.
Among the seekers for truth, among the scientists, engineers,
and experts in different technical arts, a new ethics has gxown,
animated by the most powerful and magnanimous sentiments
of justice and universal benevolence, to which they have been
brought by the contemplation and study of nature. It is upon
the ethics of the men who have an exact knowledge of these con-

AERIAL CROSSING OF THE OCEAN 441

crete facts that depends the welfare of humanity. It is by these
competent and best men of humanity, masters of the physical
world, that the people ought to let themselves be led. The
fight between the two tendencies has already begun. It is the
fight between the ethics of scholastic ignorance and the ethics
of scientific verity. This fight is an old one, but has taken in
modern times a new form. It is to Dr. George Sarton, pro-
fessor of Harvard University, that we owe a brilliant, vigorous
and rigorous exposé of this social state of things, which he
designates by a name full of destiny, “The New Humanism.’
Any eloquence of mine would disappear before the words of full
conviction of this defender of one of the most beautiful social
movements, the understanding of which will without any doubt
make us avoid many disasters of the future. Workers in sci-
ence and technical arts, you have the duty of uniting about the
powerful ideals of the “New Humanism,” and it will not be
long till the light of welfare will pierce the darkness of the
classical humanist. The fate of humanity is in progress; this
is why the victory of the ‘‘ New Humanism” can not be stopped.
But let us reach it by the peaceful way of conscious evolution,
and not by the way of bloody revolution, whose specter stands
ready to spread itself over the earth’s surface. Modern human-
ity has a long step to make; it is that of emancipation from the
prejudice of the classical humanist. Let us take this step
heroically, having the courage to recognize our errors without
persisting in our mistakes, without concealing by the sophis-
tries of the classical humanists the actual social wounds, and
without crushing by ignorance the benefits of science.

To see how far science is from being sufficiently appreci-
ated to-day, it is enough to compare in the budget of any state
the appropriation for science and the appropriations for crimi-
nality, for example, this last word being understood in its
widest sense. The comparison is illuminating. I will not in-
sist on this painful side of modern social life.

I have considered it necessary to mention here the ‘“‘ New
Humanism” for the purpose of showing that the evolution of
humanity, although bound up with technical conquests, de-
pends, for the rapidity of its progress, also in a large measure
upon social morality. The one brings the other with it.

I allow myself to express the intense desire to see the uni-
verse conquered by the “New Humanism,” spreading through

8George Sarton’s “Le Nouvel Humanisme,” Scientia, March, 1918;

see also THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY, September, 1918, “ The Teaching of the
History of Science.”

442 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the earth by the powerful transcontinental and transoceanic
air routes; and then it will not be long before universal peace,
so longed for by every one, becomes a natural phenomenon.

Since the origin of the universe, the complete conquest of
the air, now realized by the crossing of the ocean, is the most
important factor ever reached in the evolution of humanity.

The history of all mankind is merely the history of its fight
against slavery by the forces of nature. Science is our power-
ful liberator; it teaches us how to use these forces for our own
benefit. How many billions of mechanical horsepower are
already working for us! To them we owe all the beauty of
modern civilization. Workers in technical arts and sciences,
you must be firm in your convictions, in the face of social
ignorance; your efforts are tracing the path of man’s highest
destiny.*

4It is a special pleasure for the author to address his heartiest thanks

to Dr. J. S. Ames for the help he gave him in correcting the style of this
article.

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 443

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI, NEW MEXICO

By ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS

NEW YORK CITY

NLY twice through my association with Pueblo Indians
has it occurred to me to be a feminist. The first time
was at Cochiti when late at night my tired and sleepy Indian
hostess grumbled in the soft tones no Pueblo woman ever loses,
grumbled because she had to sit up for the young husband who
was spending the evening at the club, 7. e., taking part in a
ceremonial at the estufa. “Tl have to get him something to
eat,” she said, ‘“‘no man here would ever cook for himself at
home. They say if they did, they would lose their sense of the
trail.” Rationalization of habit or desire is not confined to the
peoples of western civilization.

The second time I remembered I was a feminist was when
the editor of a certain journal asked me to write an article on
Zuni women. Are the women of a community still thought of,
I queried, even in scientific or pseudo-scientific circles, as a
separable class? If so, there is nothing for us but to keep on
with the categories of feminist and anti-feminist, tiresome
though they become.

Well, the article was written, but it was not published be-
cause it contained a reference to the lack of prostitution at
Zuni. Recognition of the subject was considered unsuitable for
boy and girl readers; it was deemed better for them to have a
partial survey of the facts of life than to see life whole, even
at Zuni. Nor was life at Zuni to suggest inquiry into life at
home.

But writing the article served at least one purpose. It
focused attention upon the differentiation of the sexes at Zuni
and resulted in an analysis which contributed to the under-
standing of a considerable portion of Zuni habits of mind and
of culture. To get the survey which leads to the analysis, let
us follow the life of a baby girl we shall call Waiyautitsa, a
girl’s name, for sex generally appears in Zuni personal names.
Sex appears somewhat in speech too. Waiyautitsa in learning
to talk will make use of expressions, particularly exclamations,
peculiar to women. Recently Dr. Kroeber, in giving us a list of

444 THE. SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the first words used by a Zuni child, a boy, noted the compara-
tively large number of kinship terms in his vocabulary. The
kinship terms of our imaginary little girl would be somewhat
different fromaboy’s. Hecallsa younger sister ikina; a younger
brother, swwe; she calls either hani, meaning merely the
younger. And, as the Zuni system of kinship terms is what is
called classificatory, cousins having the same terms as brother
and sister, Waiyautitsa has even fewer words than her brother
to express cousinship.

When Waiyautitsa is three or four years old she may be
recognized as a girl not merely from her speech, but from her
dress, from her cotton slip; at this age little boys wear trousers.
But not for another three or four years, perhaps longer, will
Waiyautitsa wear over her cotton slip the characteristic Pueblo
woman’s dress,—the black blanket dress fastened on the left
shoulder and under the right arm and hence called in Zuni
watone, meaning “ across,” the broad belt woven of white, green
and red cotton, the store-bought kerchief or square of silk
(pitone) which, fastened in front, hangs across shoulders and
back, and the small foot, thick lez moccasins which cover ankle
and calf in an envelope of fold upon fold of buckskin. Before
Waiyautitsa is eight or even six she may, however, when she
goes out, cover her head and body with a black blanket or with
the gay colored “shawl” similarly worn. And I have seen very
little girls indeed wearing moccasins or the footless black stock-
ings Zuni women also wear, or “dressing up” in a pitone, that
purely ornamental article of dress without which no Zuni
woman would venture outdoors. Without her pitone she would
feel naked, she says, and any man would be at liberty to speak
disrespectfully to her. When Waiyautitsa is about five, her
hair, before this worn, like the boys, in a short cut, is let grow
into a little tail on the nape of her neck. In course of time her
pigtail will be turned up and tied with a “hair belt” of white,
green and red cloth. From ear to ear her front hair will be
banged to the end of her nose, the bang drawn sidewise above
the forehead except at such times in ceremonials when it is let
fall forward to conceal the upper part of the face.

This hair arrangement serves in ceremonials as a kind of
mask. A mask proper, that quasi fetich which has so important
a place in Pueblo ceremonialism, Waiyautitsa will in all prob-
ability never wear. Unlike her brother, Waiyautitsa will not
be initiated in childhod into the kotikyane or god society, and
consequently she will not join one of the six kiwitsitwe or
sacred club-houses or estufas which supply personators for the

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 445

masked “dancers.” Not that female personages do not figure
in these ceremonials, but as was the rule on the Elizabethan
stage women are impersonated by men.

To this exclusion of girls from the kotikyane and from
participating in the masked “‘dances” there are, we should
note, a few exceptions. To-day three women belong to the
kotikyane. They were taken into it not in childhood, but in
later life and, it is said, for one of the same reasons women as
well as men are taken into the other fraternities or societies of
Zuni. Cured by ceremonial whipping of the bad effects of
nightmare or of some other ailment, they were “given” to the
kiwitsine credited through one of its members with the cure.
Of the three women members only one is said to dance, and she
is accounted mannish, katsotse, girl-man, a tomboy.

Waiyautitsa will not be initiated, it is not very likely, into
the kotikyane, but she is quite likely to be initiated into another
society,—into the Great Fire or Little Fire or Bed Bug or Ant
or Wood society, into any one of the thirteen Zuni societies ex-
cept three, the bow priesthood or society of warriors, of war-
riors who have taken a scalp, or the Hunter Society or the
Cactus Society, a society that cures arrow or gun-shot wounds.
As women do not hunt or go to war, from membership in these
groups they are excluded or, better say, precluded. As we
shall see later, affiliation by sex is in ceremonial affairs along
the lines of customary occupation.

If Waiyautitsa falls sick and is cured by a medicine-man
of the medicine order of a society she must be “given” either
to the family of the medicine man or to his society. Initiated
she may not be, however, for a long time afterwards, perhaps
for years. Initiations take place in the winter when school is in
session, the school either of the Indian Bureau or of the Dutch
Reformed Church, and for that reason, it is said, initiations
may be postponed until past school age. Despite the schools,
I may say, I have met but two Zuni women who speak English
with any fluency. One woman is a member of the Snake-
Medicine Society, into which she was initiated after conval-
escence from measles, a decimating disease at Zuni, to be ac-
counted for only through witchcraft. The other woman was
accounted the solitary convert of the Dutch Reform Church
Mission in Zuni until six or seven years ago she joined the
Wood society because as a child she had been cured by them of
smallpox.

After initiation, the women, like the men of a society, offer
feather-sticks each moon, observing continence for four days

446 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

thereafter, and they join in the four-day retreat in the cere-
monial house of the society preliminary to an initiation. Un-
like the men, however, the women do not spend the entire
night, only the evening, in the society house, and, while there,
they are listeners rather than narrators of the inexhaustible
folk tales that are wont to be told at society gatherings. Men
are the custodians of the lore, secular as well as esoteric, of the
tribe, just as men and not women are the musicians. The men
are devoted singers, singing as they dance or singing as a
choir for dancers, and singing as they go to or from work in the
fields or as they drive their horses to water in the river or to
the corrals on the edges of the town. Even grinding songs are
sung on ceremonial occasions by men.

In the public appearances of the society, the women mem-
bers figure but little. Societies supply choirs and drummers
and ceremonial road openers or leaders to the masked dancers
and, during the great koko awia (god coming) or shalako cere-
monial, to various groups of sacred personages. I have seen
several “dances” in Zuni and one celebration of koko awia,
and I have seen but one woman officiate in public. As a daugh-
ter of the house which was entertaining the koyemshi or sacred
clowns she was in attendance upon that group in the koko awia
or Advent, so to speak, of 1915.

If Waiyautitsa belongs to a society, she will offer or plant
the befeathered prayer-sticks, which are so conspicuous a fea-
ture of Pueblo religion, but, being a woman, Waiyautitsa will
not cut or dress the sticks. She will only grind the pigments
and, perhaps, paint the sticks. Nor as a woman would she
offer the sticks on certain other ceremonial occasions when the
men offer them. Once a year, however, at the winter solstice
ceremonial on which so much of Zuni ritualism pivots, Waiyau-
titsa will be expected, even in infancy, to plant, planting for the
“old ones,” 2. €., the ancestors and for the Moon, but not, like
the men, for the Sun or, unless a member of the kotikyane, for
the ancestral gods, the koko.

At the conclusion of the winter solstice ceremonial, when
certain sacred figures called kwelele go from house to house,
the women carry embers around the walls of the house and
throw them out on the kwelele. It is a rite of shuwaha, cleans-
ing, exorcism. There are a number of other little rites peculiar
to the women in Zufi ceremonialism. Through them, and
through a number of rites they share with the men, through
provisions for supplying food in the kiwitsine to the sacred
personators or for entertaining them at home or making them

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 447

presents, women have an integral part in Zuni ceremonialism.
In what we may call the ceremonial management, however, they
appear to have little or no part.

Even when women are initiated into the kotikyane, or are
associated with the ashiwanni or rain priests, their functions
seem to be primarily of an economic or housekeeping order.
The women members of the rain priesthoods have to offer food
every day to the fetiches of these sacerdotal groups—to stones
carved and uncarved and to cotton wrapped lengths of cane
filled with ‘‘ the seeds the people live by.”” For the seed fetiches
to be in any way disturbed in the houses to which they are
attached involves great danger to the people and on a woman in
the house, the woman member of the priesthood, falls the
responsibility of guardianship or shelter. But even these posi-
tions of trust are no longer held by women—there are, accord-
ing to Dr. Kroeber, only six women ashiwanni among the fifteen
priesthoods. ‘The woman’s position among the paramount
priesthood, the rain priesthood of the North, has been vacant
now for many years—no suitable woman being willing, they
say, to run the risks or be under the taboos of office. Aside
from this position of woman shiwanni, women count for little
or nothing in the theocracy of Zuni. They were and are asso-
ciated with the men priests to do the work pertinent to
women. In the case of the Zuhi pantheon or its masked im-
personations, the association is needed to satisfy or carry out,
so to speak, Zuni standards or concepts of conjugality. The
couple rather than the individual is the Zuni unit. Sometimes,
in ceremony or in myth, the couple may consist of two males.

There is one masked couple I have noted in particular at
Zuni, the atoshle. Two or three times during the winter our
little Waiyautitsa together with other girls and very little boys
may expect to be frightened by the atoshle, the disciplinary
masks who serve as bugaboos to children as well as a kind of
sergeant-at-arms, the male atoshle at least, for adults. If the
children meet the old man and his old woman in the street, they
run away helter skelter. If the dreadful couple visits a child
indoors, sent for perhaps by a parent, the child is indeed badly
frightened. I suppose that Waiyautitsa is six or seven years
old when one day, as an incident of some dance, the atoshle
“come out”? and come to her house. The old woman atoshle
carries a deep basket on her back in which to carry off naughty
children and in her hand a crook to catch them by the ankle.
With the crook she pulls Waiyautitsa over to the grinding
stones in the corner of the room, telling her that now she is

448 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

getting old enough to help her mother about the house, to look
after the baby and, before so very long, to grind. She must
mind her mother and be a good girl. I once saw a little girl so
terrified by such admonition—this time by the old man atoshle,
the old woman not being along—that she began to whimper,
hiding her head in her mother’s lap until the atoshle was
sprinkled with the sacred meal and left the house to perform
elsewhere his role of parents’ assistant.

Whether from fear, from supernatural fear or fear of being
talked about as any Zuni woman who rests or idles is talked
about, or whether from example, more from the latter no doubt
than from the former, Waiyautitsa is certainly a “good girl,”
a gentle little creature, and very docile. Through imitating her
industrious mother or aunt or her even more industrious grand-
mother or great-aunt, she learns to do all the household tasks
of women. She learns to grind the corn on the stone metate—
that back-hardening labor of the Pueblo woman—and to prepare
and cook the meal in a number of ways in an outside oven or on
the American stove or on the flat slab on which hewe or wafer
bread is spread. For the ever cheery family meal she sets out
the coffee-pot, the hewe or tortilla, and the bowls of chile and
of mutton stew on the earthen floor she is forever sweeping up
with her little home-made brush or with an American broom.
(A Zufi house is kept very clean and amazingly neat and
orderly.)

And Waiyautitsa becomes very thrifty—not only naturally
but supernaturally. She will not sell corn out of the house
without keeping back a few grains in order that the corn may
return—in Zufii thought the whole follows a part. And she will
keep a lump of salt in the corn store room and another in the
bread bowl—when salt is dug out, the hole soon refills, and this
virtue of replacing itself the salt is expected to impart to the
corn. There are other respects, too, in which Waiyautitsa will
learn how to facilitate the economy. She will sprinkle the
melon seeds for planting with sweetened water—melons should
be sweet. Seed wheat she will sprinkle with a white clay to
make the crop white, and with a plant called ko’wa so that
wheat dough will pull well. Seed corn will be sprinkled with
water that the crop may be well rained on.

From some kinswoman who is a specially good potter
Waiyautitsa may have learned to coil and paint and fire the
bowls as well as the cook pots and water jars the househoid
needs. She fetches in wood from the wood-pile and now and
again she may be seen chopping the pine or cedar logs the men

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 449

of the household have brought in on donkey or in wagon. She
fetches water from one of the modern wells of the town, carry-
ing it in a jar on her head and walking in the slow and spring-
less gait always characteristic of Pueblo women. That gait, let
me say, so ponderous and so different from the gait of the men,
is one of the puzzling things about Pueblo women. Is it per-
haps the result of their incessant industry, a kind of uncon-
scious self-protective device against “speeding up”?

Waiyautitsa will learn to work outdoors as well as in. She
will help her mother in keeping one of the small gardens near
the town—the men cultivate the outlying fields of corn and
wheat (and the men and boys herd the sheep which make the
Zuni prosperous), and Waiyautitsa will help her household
thresh their wheat crop, in the morning preparing dinner for
the workers, for relatives from other households as well as
from her own, in the afternoon joining the threshers as the
men drive horses or mules around the circular threshing floor
~ and the women and girls pitch-fork the wheat and brush away
the chaff and winnow the grain in baskets. Waiyautitsa will
also learn to make adobe blocks and to plaster with her bare
hand or with a rabbit-skin glove the adobe walls of her mother’s
house, inside and out. Pueblo men are the carpenters of a
house, but the women are always the plasterers, and Waiyau-
titsa will have to be a very old woman indeed to think she is
too old to plaster. On my last visit to Zuni I saw a woman
seventy or not much under spending part of an afternoon on
her knees plastering the chinks of a door newly cut between
two rooms.

The house she plasters belongs or will in time belong to
Waiyautitsa. Zuni women own their houses and their gardens
or, perhaps it is better to say, gardens and houses belong to the
family through the women. At marriage a girl does not leave
home; her husband joins her household. He stays in it, too,
only as long as he is welcome. If he is lazy, if he fails to bring
in wood, if he fails to contribute the produce of his fields, or if
some one else for some other reason is preferred, his wife ex-
pects him to leave her household. He does not wait to be told
twice. “The Zuni separate whenever they quarrel or get tired
of each other,” a critical Acoma moralist once said to me. The
monogamy of Zuni is, to be sure, rather brittle. In separation
the children stay with the mother.

Children belong to their mother’s clan. They have affilia-
tions, however, as we shall see, with the clan of their father.
If the mother of Waiyautitsa is a Badger, let us say, and her

VOL. VII.—29.

450 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

father a Turkey, Waiyautitsa will be a Badger and “the child
of the Turkey.” She can not marry a Turkey clansman nor, of
course, a Badger. Did she show any partiality for a clansman,
an almost incredible thing, she would be told she was just like
a dog or a burro.

These exogamous restrictions aside and the like restric-
tions that may arise in special ways between the household of
Waiyautitsa and other households, Waiyautitsa would be given,
I am told, freedom of choice in marrying. Even if her house-
hold did not like her man, and her parents had told her not “to
talk to” him, Zuni for courting, she and he could go to live with
some kinswoman. No one, related or unrelated, would refuse
to take them in. In Zuni nobody may be turned from the door.
Nor would a girl whose child was the offspring of a chance
encounter be turned out by her people or slighted. The ille-
gitimate child is not discriminated against at Zuni.

Casual relationships occur at Zuni, but they are not com-
mercialized, there is no prostitution. Nor is there any life-long
celibacy. As for courtship, how there can be any, at least
before intimacy either in the more transient or more permanent
forms of mating, is a puzzle—the separation outside of the
household of boys and girls of various ages issothorough. “But
what if a little girl wanted to play with boys?” I once asked.
“They would laugh at her and say she was too crazy about
boys.” “Crazy” at Zufi, as quite generally among Indians,
means passionate. (Girls at Zuni are warned away from cere-
monial trespass by the threat of becoming “ crazy.’’)

The young men and the girls do, to be sure, have non-cere-
monial dances together, and in preparing for them there may
be opportunities for personal acquaintance. The dance itself
seems too formal for such opportunities. I saw one of these
dances not long ago. It was a Comanche dance. There were
a choir of about a dozen youths including the drummer, four
girl dancers heavily beringed and benecklaced, the pattern of
whose dance, two by two or in line, was very regular, and a
youth who executed in front of them or around them an ani-
mated and very beautiful pas seul. After dancing outside in
the plaza, they all went into “the saints house” to dance for
her ‘‘ because they like her ”—a survival no doubt of the custom
of dancing in the Catholic church observed by the Indians in
Mexico and not long since quite generally in New Mexico.
During this same visit to Zuni, I may say, I also saw one late
afternoon, a time for fetching water, a young man take a girl
rather brusquely by the arm and try to speak to her. She

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 451

averted her head and passed on, another girl only a few steps
ahead of her and another not far behind. It was the briefest of
encounters and far from private, but it left me no longer quite
as sceptical as I had been on being told that at this twilight
hour, at least, the girls and the young men do meet. And after
“two or four” meetings at the well a girl may agree to marry
or, in Zufi phrase, to have a man.

Well, Waiyautitsa has in one way or another, we shall have
to suppose, met her young man and agreed that he is to join her
household. At first, for a few days, he will stay in the common
room, in the room where all sleep (sleeping and dressing, let me
say, with the utmost modesty), he will stay only at night,
leaving before dawn, “ staying still” his shyness is called. Then
he will begin to eat his meals with the household. There is, you
see, no wedding ceremonial and a man slips as easily as he can
into the life of his wife’s household. The Ashiwi, as the people
call themselves, take no pleasure in disconcerting one another—
ceremonially, at least—nor does the priesthood aim to direct
domestic events.

Waiyautitsa will pay a formal visit on her bridegroom’s
people, taking his mother a basket of corn meal. To Waiyau-
titsa herself her young man will have given a present of
cloth for a dress or a buckskin for the moccasins he will make
for her. Hides are a product of the chase, of cattle raising
(cowhide is used to sole moccasins), or of trade, men’s occupa-
tions, and so moccasins of both women and men are made by
men. Women make their own dresses, although, formerly, before
weaving went out of fashion at Zuni, it is likely that men were
the weavers, just as they are to-day among the Hopi from
whom the men of Zuni get cloth for their ceremonial kilts and
blankets and for the dresses of the women. Even to-day at
Zuni men may make up their own garments from store bought
goods and it is not unusual to see a man sitting to a sewing-
machine.

A man may use cloth or thread for other than economic
reasons. In case a girl jilts him he will catch her out some
night and take a bit from her belt to fasten to a tree on a windy
mesa top. As the wind wears away the thread, the woman will
sicken and perhaps in two or three years die.t A woman who is
deserted may take soil from the man’s footprints and put it
where she sleeps. At night he will think of her and come back—
“even if the other woman is better looking.” Apprehensive of

1 Analogous reasoning leads to the practise of burning scraps in dress-
making that they may not fall into the hands of a witch.

452 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

desertion a woman may put a lock of hair from the man in her
house wall or, the better to attach him to her, she may wear it
over her heart. Women and men alike may buy love charms
from the newekive, a curing society potent in magic, black or
white. There is a song, too, which men and women may sing
“in their heart” to charm the opposite sex. And there is a
song which a girl may sing to the corn as she rubs the yellow
meal on her face before going out. “Help me,” is the sub-
stance of it, “I am going to the plaza. Make me look pretty.”
Rarely do our girls pray, I suppose, when they powder their
noses.

Courtship past for the time being, courtship by magic or other-
wise, Waiyautitsa is now, let us say, an expectant mother. Her
household duties continue to be about the same, but certain
precautions, if she inclines to be very circumspect, she does
take. She will not test the heat of her oven by sprinkling it in
the usual way with bran, for if she does, her child, she has
heard, may be born with a skin eruption. Nor will she look at
a corpse or help dress a dead animal lest her child be born dead
or disfigured. She has heard that even as a little girl if she ate
the whitish leaf of the corn husk her child would be an albino.
If her husband eat this during the pregnancy the result would
be the same. On her husband fall a number of other pregnancy
taboos, perhaps as many as fall on her, if not more. If he
hunts and maims an animal, the child will be similarly maimed
—deformed or perhaps blind. If he joins in a masked dance,
the child may have some mask-suggested misshape or some
eruption like the paint on the mask. If he sings a great
deal, the child will be a cry baby. The habit of thinking in
terms of sympathetic magic or of reasoning by analogy which
is even more conspicuous at Zuni than, let us say, at New York,
is particularly evident in pregnancy or birth practises or taboos.

Perhaps Waiyautitsa has wished to determine the sex of the
child. In that case she may have made a pilgrimage with a rain
priest to Towa Yalene, the high mesa three miles to the east of
the town, to plant a feather-stick which has to be cut and
painted in one way for a boy, in another way for a girl.
(Throughout the Southwest blue or turquoise is associated with
maleness and yellow with femaleness.) Wanting a girl, and
girls are wanted in Zuni quite as much as boys, if not more,
Waiyautitsa need not make the trip to the mesa, instead her
husband may bring her to wear in her belt scrapings from a
stone in a phallic shrine near the mesa. When labor sets in and
the pains are slight, indicating, women think, a girl, Waiyautitsa

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 453

may be told by her mother, “Don’t sleep, or you will have a
boy.” A nap during labor effects a change of sex. When the
child is about to be born, Waiyautitsa is careful, too, if she
wants a girl, to see that the custom of sending the men out of
the house at this time is strictly observed.

After the birth, Waiyautitsa will lie in for several days,
four, eight, ten or twelve, according to the custom of her family.
Whatever the custom, if she does not observe it, she runs the
risk of “drying up” and dying. She lies on a bed of sand
heated by hot stones, and upon her abdomen is placed a hot
stone. Thus is she “cooked,” people say, and creatures whose
mothers are not thus treated are called uncooked, raw—they
are the animals, the gods, Whites. To be “cooked” seems to
be tantamount in Zuni to being human.

It is the duty of Waiyautitsa’s mother-in-law, the child’s
paternal grandmother, to look after mother and child during
the confinement, and at its close to carry the child outdoors at
dawn and present him or her to the Sun. Had Waiyautitsa lost
children, she might have invited a propitious friend, some
woman who had had many children and lost none, to attend
the birth and be the first to pick up the child and blow into his
mouth. In these circumstances the woman’s husband would
become the initiator of the child, if a boy, when the child was to
be taken into the kotikyane. Generally the child’s father
choses some man from the house of his own kuku or paternal
aunt to be the initiator or godfather, so to speak, of the child.

The infant will receive many attentions, too, from his
mother and her household. He is placed on a cradle board in
which, near the position of his heart, a bit of turquoise is inlaid
to preclude the cradle bringing any harm to its tenant. Left
alone, a baby runs great risk—some family ghost may come and
hold him, causing him to die within four days. And so a quasi
fetichistic ear of corn, a double ear thought of as mother and
child, is left alongside the baby as a protector. That the baby
may teeth promptly, his gums may be rubbed by one who has
been bitten by a snake—“ snakes want to bite.”’ To make the
child’s hair grow long and thick, his grandfather or uncle may
puff the smoke of native tobacco on his head. That the child
may not be afraid in the dark, water-soaked embers are rubbed
over his heart the first time he is taken out at night—judging
from what I have seen of Zuni children and adults a quite in-
effectual method. That the child may keep well and walk early,
hairs from a deer are burned and the child held over the smoke
—deer are never sick and rapid is their gait. Their hearing,

454 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

too, is acute, so discharge from a deer’s ear will be put into the
baby’s ear. That the child may talk well and with tongues, the
tongue of a snared mocking-bird may be cut out and held to the
baby to lick. The bird will then be released in order that, as it
regains its tongue and “talks,” the child will talk. A youth
who speaks in addition to his native tongue Keresan, English
and Spanish has been pointed out to me as one who had licked
mocking-bird tongue.

Waiyautitsa will give birth to three or four children, let us
say, probably not more, and then, as she approaches middle
age, let us suppose she falls sick, and after being doctored un-
successfully first by her old father who happens to be a well-
known medicine-man of the Great Fire society, and then by a
medicine-man from the newekwa society whose practice is just
the opposite, Waiyautitsa dies. Within a few hours elderly
kinswomen of her father’s will come in and wash her hair and
body, and at dawn sprinkle her face first with water and then
with meal. The deceased will be well dressed, and in a blanket
donated by her father’s people she will be carried to the ceme-
tery lying in front of the old church, a ruin from the days of the
Catholic establishment in Zuni. There to the north of the cen-
tral wooden cross, 7. e., on the north side of the cemetery,
Waiyautitsa will be buried. Women are always buried on the
north side and men on the south.

Waiyautitsa will be carried out and buried by her father’s
kinsmen or clansmen. No woman will go to the burial, nor will
the widower. The widower, as soon as the corpse is taken
outdoors, will be fetched by his women relatives to live at their
house. There they straightway wash his hair—a performance
inseparable in Zufii as at other pueblos from every time of crisis
or ceremony. The hair of all the other members of Waiyau-
titsa’s household will be washed at the end of four days by
women relatives of her father. During this time, since the
spirit of Waiyautitsa is thought to linger about the home, the
house door will be left open for her at night. The bowl used in
washing her hair and the implements used in digging her
grave will also be left outdoors. Her smaller and peculiarly
personal possessions have been buried with her and bulky
things like bedding have been burned or taken to a special place
down the river to be buried. The river flows to the lake sixty
miles or so west of Zuni where Waiyautitsa’s spirit is also sup-
posed to take its journey. There under the lake it abides except
when with other spirits it returns in the clouds to Zuni to pour
down the beneficent rain. People will say to a child, when they

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 455

see a heavy cloud, “ There goes your grandmother,” or they
will quite seriously say to one another, “‘Our grandfathers are
coming.”

Waiyautitsa’s children may go on living at home with their
grandmother, Waiyautitsa’s mother, or it may be one of them
is adopted by a maternal aunt or great-aunt or cousin. Zuni
children, cherished possessions as they are, are always being
adopted—even in the lifetime of their mother. Adopted, a
child—or an adult—will fit thoroughly into the ways of his
adoptive household. It is the household as well as the clan
which differentiates the Zuni family group from our individ-
ualistic type of family. The household changes quite readily,
but whatever its composition, it is an exceedingly integrated
and responsible group.

However the children are distributed, it will be the older
woman or women in the household who will control them. This
household system is one that gives position and considerable
authority to the elder women—until the women are too old,
people say, to be of any use. (In spite of this irony, I have
heard of but one old woman who was neglected by her house-
hold.) An older woman who is the female head of the house-
hold is greatly respected by her daughters and sons-in-law and
grandchildren as well as by the sons or brothers who continually
visit the household and often, as temporary celibates, return to
live in it.

The older woman is highly esteemed, but she is by no means
the head of the household—unless she is widowed. Wherever
the household contributes to the ceremonial public life, her
husband is paramount. In the non-ceremonial, economic life,
too, he has equal, if not greater, authority. And in the general
economy he more or less expects his wife to serve him and wait
on him. This conjugal subordination is not apparent to any
extent among the younger people; the younger husband and
wife are too much drawn into the cooperate household life.
But as time passes and they in turn become the heads of the
household, the man appears to be more given to staying at
home, and more and more he takes control.

From this brief survey of the life of a woman at Zufi in so
far as it can be distinguished from the general life, we get the
impression that the differentiation of the sexes follows lines of
least resistance which start from a fairly fundamental division
of labor. From being hunters and trappers men become herders
of the domestic animals, drivers or riders. Trade journeys and
trips for wood or for the collecting of other natural resources

456 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

are associated with men, and work on the things acquired is
men’s work—men, for example, are wood cutters, and bead
makers, whether the objects are for secular or sacerdotal use.
Analogously all work upon skins or feathers is work for men
whether it leads to the manufacture of clothing or to communi-
cation with the supernaturals. Again, as farmers, men are as-
sociated with that system of supernatural instrumentalism for
fertility and weather control which constitutes in large part
Zuni religion. In other words, the bulk of the ceremonial life,
a system for the most part of rain rituals, is in the hands of the
men. Sois government. The secular officers are merely repre-
sentatives of the priests. Zufhi government is a theocracy in
which women have no part. The house and housekeeping are
associated with women. Clay is the flesh of a female super-
natural and clay processes, brick making or laying or plaster-
ing, and pottery making are women’s work. There are indica-
tions in sacerdotal circles that painting is or was thought of as
a feminine activity. Corn, like clay, is the flesh of female super-
naturals, and the corn is associated with women. Even men
corn growers are in duty bound to bring their product to their
wife or mother. Women or women impersonations figure in
corn rituals. It is tempting to speculate that formerly, cen-
turies since, women themselves were the corn growers. To-day,
at any rate, the preparation of corn as of other food is women’s
work. Wherever food and its distribution figure in ceremonials,
and there is a constant offering of food to the supernaturals,
women are apt to figure. Fetiches are attached to houses and
in so far as providing for these fetiches is household work it is
women’s work and leads to the holding of sacerdotal office by
women. The household rather than ties of blood is the basis
of family life. The children of the household are more closely
attached to the women than to the men. One expression of this
attachment is seen in reckoning clan membership through the
mother.

Household work at Zufi as elsewhere is continuous. The
women are always on the move. The work of the men, on the
other hand, is intermittent. Hunting, herding and farming are
more or less seasonal activities and are more or less readily
fitted into ceremonial pursuits, or rather, in their less urgent
periods, take on ceremonial aspects. In the ceremonial life the
arts find expression, and the men and not the women are by and
large the artists of the tribe.

Attached to the ceremonial life are the games of chance and

WAIYAUTITSA OF ZUNI 457

the races that are played or run at certain seasons. Here again
the intermittent habit of work of the men together with their
comparative mobility qualify them as gamesters and runners
to the exclusion of the women. It is even more unusual to see
a Pueblo woman run than to see a white American woman, and
like white women, Pueblo Indian women seem quite content to
pay no attention to games or merely to look on. They engage
in no games.?

Household work is confining. Hunting, herding, trading
lead to a comparatively mobile habit, a habit of mind or spirit
which in the Southwest, at least, is adapted to ceremonial pur-
suit; for Pueblo Indian ceremonialism thrives on foreign accre-
tions, whether of myth or song or dance or design of mask or
costume, or, within certain limits of assimilation, of psycho-
logical patterns of purpose or gratification.

To the point of view that the differentiation of the sexes at
Zuni proceeds on the whole from the division of labor the native
custom of allowing a boy or man to become, as far as ways of
living go, a girl or woman, gives color. Towards adolescence,
and sometimes in later life, it is permissible for a boy culturally
to change sex. He puts on women’s dress, speaks like a woman,
and behaves like a woman. This alteration is due to the fact
that one takes readily to women’s work, one prefers it to men’s
work. Of one or another of the three men-women now at Zuni
or of the men-women in other pueblos I have always been told
that the person in question made the change because he wanted
to work like a woman or because his household was short of
women and needed a woman worker. This native theory of the
institution of the man-women is a curious commentary, is it
not, on that thorough-going belief in the intrinsic difference
between the sexes which is so tightly held to in our own culture?

2 Formerly women are said to have played with men a ceremonial or
quasi-ceremonial game, a pole and hoop game, and to-day the very little
girls, besides playing house, play other games. In one of them the girls
trace a spiral on the ground and at the center place a bowl of water to
represent a spring. They follow the spiral to get water for their little

turkeys which, they sing, are dying of thirst. A “bear” rushes out from
the spring and gives chase.

458 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE CONTROVERSY ON THE ORIGIN OF OUR
NUMERALS

By Professor FLORIAN CAJORI
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA

ECENTLY certain articles have been written which cast
doubt upon the commonly accepted view that our numeral
system originated in India and two writers definitely assign a
European origin. As the conclusions of these articles have
been spread broadcast in popular weekly journals, it seems ap-
propriate that a fuller account giving a digest of the facts and
arguments bearing on the question be placed before the scien-
tific public.

Our so-called “ Arabic” notation owes its excellence to the
application of the principle of local value and the use of a sym-
bol for zero. It is now conclusively established that the prin-
ciple of local value was used by the Babylonians much earlier
than by the Hindus? and that the Maya of Central America used
the principle and symbols for zero in a well-developed numeral
system of their own.’ The notation of Babylonia used the scale
of 60, that of the Maya, the scale 20 (except in one step). It
follows, therefore, that the present controversy on the origin
of our numerals does not involve the question of the first use of
local value and symbols for zero; it concerns itself only with
the time and place of the first application of local value to the
decimal scale and with the origin of the forms or shapes of our
ten numerals.

1G. R. Kaye, “ Notes on Indian Mathematics,” Journal and Proceed-
ings of the Asiatic Society of Bengal, N. S., Vol. 3, 1907, pp. 475-508;
“The Use of the Abacus in Ancient India,” loc. cit., Vol. 4, 1908, pp. 2938—
297; “References to Indian Mathematics in certain Medieval Works,” loc.
cit., Vol. 7, 1911, pp. 801-813; “A Brief Bibliography of Hindu Mathe-
matics,” loc. cit., Vol. 7, 1911, pp. 679-686; Scientia, Vol. 24, 1918, p. 54;
“Influence Grecque dans le Développement des Mathématiques Hindoues,”
Scientia, Vol. 25, 1919, pp. 1-14.

Carra de Vaux, “Sur l’origine des chiffres,”’ Scientia, Vol. 21, 1917,
pp. 273-282.

Nicol. Bubnov, “ Arithmetische Selbststandigkeit der europdischen
Kultur,” Berlin, 1914. (Translated from the Russian edition, Kiev, 1908.)
“ Origin and History of our Numerals,” Kiev, 1908 (Russian).

2M. Cantor, “ Vorlesungen tiber Geschichte der Mathematik,” 1. Bd.,
3. Auflage, Leipzig,1907, pp. 24-48. Cantor gives bibliographical references.

3C. P. Bowditch, “Maya Numeration, Calendar and Astronomy,”
Cambridge (Mass.), 1910; S. G. Morley, “ Introduction to the Study of the
Maya Hieroglyphs,” Washington, 1915.

THE ORIGIN OF OUR NUMERALS 459

That our numerals were of Hindu origin has been the belief
held by individual European writers since the Renaissance.
Following the publication of M. F. Woepcke’s articles, particu-
larly his “Mémoire sur la propagation des chiffres Indiens,’*
it came to be generally accepted by mathematical historians.
Only recently have dissenting voices beenheard. Three writers,
G. R. Kaye, Carra de Vaux, and Nicolaus Bubnov, represent the
new claims. The last two writers place the weight of their
authority on the side of an European origin.

The arguments upon which the Hindu origin of our numer-
als has been based are essentially three in number: (1) The
use of the numerals in ancient Indian inscriptions, (2) the
early Indian use of the abacus, (3) the testimony of Arabic
writers.

G. R. Kaye, who, on this question, is far more careful, con-
servative and thorough than the other two investigators, has
studied the Hindu numerals in connection with the general his-
tory of mathematics in India. He has made important contri-
butions to this subject.

As regards the first argument, relating to ancient Hindu
inscriptions, Kaye refers to seventeen inscriptions antedating
the tenth century A.D. which have been supposed to contain our
decimal place-value notation and to indicate the Indian origin
of our numerals. The inscriptions are copper-plate grants.
Many such grants are now known to be forgeries, fabricated
about the end of the eleventh century, when there was “ great
opportunity to regain confiscated endowments and to acquire
fresh ones.” Students of epigraphy have eliminated from these
seventeen inscriptions practically all but one as unauthentic,
namely the one bearing the date 867 A.D.5 Kaye states that
the two earliest known Hindu inscriptions that contain com-
plete sets of the ten numerals are of 1050 A.D. and 1114 A.D.
According to the above, the earliest period of the undoubted use
of our notation in India is the ninth century of our era. If
the one inscription by which the ninth century is fixed turns
out to be unreliable, then we must fall back on the tenth century
as the earliest period.

Some writers have ascribed a knowledge of our notation to
the astronomer Aryabhatta, early in the sixth century. L.
Rodet® does so on the ground that Aryabhatta’s rule for root-

4 Journal Asiatique, 6 S., T. 1., Paris, 1868, pp. 27-79, 234-290, 442-
529.

5G. R. Kaye, Journal and Proceedings of the Asiatic Society of Ben-

gal, N. S., Vol. 3, 1907, pp. 485-487.
6 Loc. cit., p. 493.

460 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

extraction implied a use of the principle of local value. “ Al-
ways divide the part that is not square by twice the root of the
square, after having subtracted from this squared part the
square of the root: the quotient is the root to the next term.”
Aryabhatta gives no illustrative examples. Rodet’s inference
does not follow, since the rule applies to all notations. Kaye
points out that Theon of Alexandria gave such a rule, yet did
not use a notation with place-value.

The second argument, that the early Hindus used the abacus,
is rejected by Kaye, for the reason that there is no reliable evi-
dence to support the claim. It has been held that it was the
use of the abacus which, most likely, suggested the principle of
local value.

The third argument, regarding the testimony of Arabic
writers, reveals in some parts the strength of Kaye’s conten-
tion of a non-Hindu origin and in other parts its weakness.
Kaye shows conclusively that through a mistranslation, I. Tay-
lor and M. F. Woepcke, and their followers, have ascribed to
the Hindus the use of mathematical processes in early cen-
turies, when, as a matter of fact, there is no evidence whatever
to show that the Hindus actually used these processes at so
early a date. This historical error arose according to Kaye in
the mistranslation of the word hindasi. Woepcke admits that
ordinarily this word signifies “‘ geometrical,’ “‘measure,”’ but
asserts that this interpretation seemed impossible when used in
connection with an explanation of the rule of ‘double false
position ”’ and the process of “casting out the nines,” for the
reason that these processes are purely arithmetical’ in nature.
Because of the resemblance of hindasi to the word hindi or “ In-
dian,” Woepcke concluded that with the particular authors in
question hindast meant “Indian,” and that, therefore, the
“double false position” and “casting out the nines” were
known to the early Hindus. The latter would seem to imply
the use of our notation. But Kaye was able to show that a geo-
metrical interpretation of the passages in question was not only
possible, but had actually been found in Arabic books. More-
over, authorities on the Arabic language declare that hindasi
can not mean hindi. Hence, says Kaye, Woepcke’s inference
that the early Hindus used the method of “double false posi-
tion” and the process of “casting out nine” is wholly without
foundation.

7M. F. Woepcke, Journal Asiatique, 6 S., T. 1., Paris, 1863, pp. 505,
511.

8G. R. Kaye in Jour. and Proceed. of the Asiatic Society of Bengal,
Vol. 7, 1911, pp. 806-811.

THE ORIGIN OF OUR NUMERALS 461

Kaye admits that hindi means only “ Indian ” and that there
are Arabic authors who speak of “ Indian” numerals and meth-
ods of computation. Some light on the probable Hindu origin
was obtained only a few years ago,® when a passage from the
Mesopotamian scholar, Severus Sebokht, indicated that in
the latter half of the seventh century the nine numerals were
known in Arab lands and were attributed to the Hindus. Hurt
by the alleged arrogance of certain Greek scholars, Sebokht
praises the science of the Hindus and speaks of “their valuable
methods of computation. . . . I wish only to say that this com-
putation is done by means of nine signs.” Unfortunately, he
leaves it to us to guess whether or not he used the zero. The
passage, written about 662 A.D., is the earliest reference that
has been found outside of India to our numerals.

About two centuries after Sebokht, appeared the famous
arithmetic of the Arab Alchowarizmi. The Arabic original is
lost, but a Latin translation has come down to us under the title
“ Algoritmi de numero Indorum.” While this title refers to
Indian numerals, they are not actually used in the book. A
book on the astronomical tables of Alchowarizmi that was writ-
ten by Muhammed ibn Ahmed el-Biriini (973-1038) was trans-
lated into Hebrew by Rabbi ben Ezra, who says in his introduc-
tion that a Hindu astronomical work had been translated into
Arabic and that, after the time of Alchowarizmi, “scholars do
their multiplications, divisions, and extraction of roots as is
written in the book of the [Hindu] scholar which they possess
in translation.’”*° Other Arabic authors who in the titles of
their texts refer to the Hindus are enumerated by Kaye."
Thus, about 987 A.D. appeared “The great Treatise on the Ta-
ble relating to the Indian Calculus.” Soon after came “The
Principles of the Indian Calculus,” and about 1030 “ The satis-
factory Treatise on Indian Arithmetic.” There were two
works, both bearing the same title, “Indian Arithmetic,” one
of the ninth century, the other of the tenth. A Latin text,
attributed to Abraham, a Jew of whom little is known, is enti-
tled “Liber augmenti et diminutionis vocatus numeratio divi-
nationis, ex eo quod sapientes Indi posuerunt.” The Italian
Leonardo of Pisa, after traveling in Egypt, Syria, Greece,
Sicily, wrote in 1202 his Liber abbaci in which he calls our

9M. F. Nau, Journal Asiatique, S. 10, Vol. 26, 1910; D. E. Smith
and J. Ginsberg, Bulletin Am. Math. Society, Vol. 23, 1917, p. 368.

10 See D. E. Smith, “ Rabbi ben Ezra and the Hindu-Arabic Problem,”
Am. Math. Monthly, Vol. 25, 1918, p. 103.

11G. R. Kaye, Journal and Proceedings of the Asiatic Society of Ben-
gal, N. S., Vol. 7, 1911, pp. 814-816.

462 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

numerals with the zero “figure Indorum.” The Byzantine
monk, Maximus Planudes (1260-1330), wrote an “ Arithmetic
according to the Hindus.” The evidence from these and some
other texts that we have omitted, in favor of the Hindu origin
of our numerals, is not so strong as one might think. In some
cases no Hindu symbols are actually employed by the authors;
the arithmetic and algebra set forth do not seem to bear Hindu
characteristics. Kaye suspects that the word “Indian” was
often incorrectly applied. Yet this testimony, as a whole,
comes with a force that is difficult to break.

Kaye has sought light on the history of our numerals in
other studies. The successive units of our notation increase
from right to left. Thus, we write the present year 1919, and
not 9191. Therefore, our notation was probably invented by
people with a right to left script and not by the Hindus whose
script is from left to right. Kaye concedes that this argument
is weakened by several considerations; thus, it is known that
certain scripts have reversed their direction.

Again, Kaye points out that an “Old Indian ” notation with-
out the zero was used in India as late as the twelfth and thir-
teenth centuries. The form of the symbols with the zero, used
in India, differed so widely from the old forms without the zero
used there, that the former seem to have had an independent
origin and to have been imported into India.

Let us now examine the arguments put forth by the Pari-
sian scholar, Carra de Vaux. He quotes a well-known passage
from the Arabic historian Masoudi writing in 948 A.D., giving
a legend on creation which De Vaux recognizes as one due, no
doubt, to the Neoplatonists in Persia.12 This legend ascribes
an Indian origin to our numerals. De Vaux’s contention that
the belief in the Indian origin, held by modern writers on the
history of mathematics, rests simply upon this legend, is hardly
in accordance with fact. Too indirect or circumstantial to be
convincing is de Vaux’s next point. He says that the Arabic
author Albiruni (died 1038) must have drawn his information
about Indian numerals from the above named legend, for other-
wise he would not have given simply a general statement, but
would have followed his usual custom of giving almost over-
scrupulously precise and detailed accounts.

We have seen that Woepcke erroneously attributed to the
Arabic word hindasi the significance of hindi or “‘ Indian,” and
consequently drew some wrong conclusions. De Vaux argues

12 See Carra de Vaux in Scientia, Vol. 21, 1917, p. 274. The quota-

tion from Masoudi is given in Jour. and Proceed. of the Asiatic Soc. of
Bengal, N. S., Vol. 7, 1911, p. 812.

THE ORIGIN OF OUR NUMERALS 463

the other way, namely, that hindi does not mean “ Indian,” but
means hindasi or ‘‘measure,” “geometry,” “arithmetic.” Hence,
when Arabic authors speak of hindi numerals, they do not mean
“Indian numerals.” The only support advanced for this un-
usual and strange interpretation is that an Arabic writer of
the ninth century asks the question, “who is the inventor of
the hindi figures,” implying that he did not know the answer.
It is possible that the question might have meant “ who in India
is the inventor of the hindi figures.” De Vaux states that the
Arabs did not ascribe the abacus to India; it is called takht,
which is said to be Persian. De Vaux conjectures that the
Arabs got the numerals with the zero from the Persians, who,
in turn, got them from the Neoplatonists or Neopythagorians
of Greece. On this hypothesis it is easier, he says, to explain
the diffusion of numerals among the different nations than on
that of a Hindu origin. From the Greeks they naturally spread
to the Latins (Beethius, fifth century) and Persians, and from
the Persians to the Arabs and Hindus. From the Arabs the
numerals passed to Spain, where Gerbert found them in the
tenth century. De Vaux’s suggestions as to the parts played
by Boethius and Gerbert do not seem to give proper weight to
the numerous researches on the authenticity of manuscripts
and are open to grave doubts. In fact, De Vaux and Nicolaus
Bubnov entertain opposite views with regard to the geometry
of Bceethius, particularly the part which contains the account of
the nine numerals. Bubnov** concludes that it was written in
the eleventh century, while De Vaux assigns it to the fifth.
Bubnov gave a preliminary exposition of his hypothesis on the
origin of our numerals in his 1899 edition of Gerbert’s mathe-
matical works. A fuller treatment followed in his book, ‘“‘ The
Arithmetical Independence of European Culture,’ which ap-
peared in Russian in 1908 and was translated into German in
1914. In the same year 1908 he issued in Russian another
publication, ‘‘ Origin and History of our Numerals,” We have
not enjoyed the opportunity of consulting his last work directly,
but a rather full synopsis is given in the Fortschritte der
Mathematik, 1908, pp. 53,54. Philological studies lead Bubnov
to deny the Hindu origin of our numerals, to claim that in the
tenth to the twelfth centuries Europe possessed the modern
positional arithmetic, though clothed in the form of the abacus
with columns and marked reckoning counters. Bubnov holds
that these counters marked with ancient symbols (the progeni-
tors of our numerals) had superseded the older unmarked
counters. He points out the existence of a counter which stood
for zero (rotula supervacua) and claims that our modern Euro-
13 See Fortschritte der Mathematik, Vol. 38, 1907, p. 62.

464 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pean numerals have no connection with India. Thus he claims
that Europe possessed the modern positional arithmetic in
instrumental form, the instrument being an abacus with col-
umns and marked reckoning counters. He asserts with confi-
dence that the abacus with marked counters was used by the
ancient Greeks and Romans, even though (as far as known) no
such counter has come down to our time or has been described
by writers of antiquity. He says that when written arithmetic
supplanted instrumental arithmetic, the nine numerals and the
zero, which first appeared on counters, finally descended upon
the written page, but he has no evidence to support this admit-
tedly clever hypothesis. Nor is he ableto point to any European
document which contains our nine numerals and the zero as
early as they are found in India. Of course, Bubnov has a per-
fect right to set up hypotheses of his own,but his writings dis-
play an inclination on his part to parade unproved hypotheses
in the guise of fairly well established facts. That his conten-
tions should be viewed merely as unproved hypotheses appears
also from the comments made by Sintzov,* Smith and Kar-
pinski,?> Paul Tannery** and G. Enestrém.?”

SUMMARY

The following are the outstanding facts:

1. The earliest reliable record of the use of our numerals
with the zero is an inscription of 867 A.D. in India.

2. The validity of the testimony of early Arabic writers
ascribing to India the numerals with the zero is shaken, but
not destroyed.

3. There is not a scintilla of evidence in the form of old
manuscripts or numeral inscriptions to support the Greek
origin of our numerals.

4, At present the hypothesis of the Hindu origin of our nu-
merals stands without any serious rival. But this hypothesis
is by no means firmly established.

As a by-product of the discussion of recent years we must
admit that, on the evidence presented, the claim that our nu-
merals and the zero were used in India as early as the fifth
century must be abandoned; our earliest apparently reliable
evidence belongs to the ninth century. We must also abandon
the claim that the early Hindus used the abacus, the rule of
“double false position,” and the process of “casting out the
nines.” These corrections are due to G. R. Kaye.

14 Fortschritte der Mathematik, Vol. 39, 1908, p. 54.

15 Smith and Karpinski, “ Hindu-Arabic Numerals,” 1911, p. 65.

16P. Tannery in Bibliotheca mathematica, 3. Series, Vol. 1,1900, p. 286.
17G, Enestroém in Bibliotheca mathematica, Vol. 14, 1913-14, p. 355.

COLLOIDS AND LIVING PHENOMENA 465

COLLOIDS AND LIVING PHENOMENA

By Dr. NATHAN FASTEN

THE UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON

N recent years the colloids have assumed a great importance
| in all discussions of living matter, so much so that life has
often been defined in terms of colloidal reactions. The proto-
plasm of the living organism consists essentially of (1) water,
(2) erystalloids and (3) colloids, and it might be truly stated
that all the complex and unintelligible manifestations of living
matter depend, largely, on the delicate interplay of these three
substances. Whether there is a vital foree—an entelechy—a
spirit that directs the wonderful behavior of these chemical
combinations is a question which can not be conclusively
answered. Certainly the results of physics, chemistry and biol-
ogy within the last few years have tended to give a materialistic
guidance to our conceptions of living phenomena, and many
modern physiologists are in agreement with Verworn when he
characterizes life as nothing more than a reaction of the pro-
teids (colloids). In any event, it matters very little for this

Fig. 1. THOMAS GRAHAM. (From Bayliss.)

VOL. viI.— 30.

466 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

discussion whether one’s conception of life is “vitalistic”’ or
““mechanistic.”” All that this paper wishes to present is the role
played by the colloids in those unique reactions which are com-
monly designated as ‘living reactions,” or as summed up in the
term “life.”

The colloids were first investigated by Thomas Graham
(Fig. 1) in 1861, who applied the term to those substances
which did not readily pass through a dialyzing membrane. To
Graham the colloids and crystalloids represented two distinct
worlds of matter with no transitions between them, and pos-
sessing the following well-defined properties:

Crystalloids Colloids
1. Are crystalline substances. 1. Are amorphous substances.
2. Form saturated solutions 2. Do not form saturated solu-

and crystallize out readily. tions and are not found to

3. Asaturation point isreached. crystallize out from solu-
4. Are of low molecular weight. tion.

5. Diffuse readily through ani- 3. No saturation point is

mal membranes. reached, the solution be-

comes thicker and thicker

Examples of Crystalloids finally forming a viscid
Sugar, salts, fatty acids, amino- gum.

acids, glycerine, etc. 4. Are of very high molecular

weight.

5. Diffuse but little or not at all
through animal mem-
branes.

Examples of Colloids
Gelatine, albumins, glue, gums,
etc.

However, we now know that these are but arbitrary dis-
tinctions. While it is true that a substance in the colloidal
state possesses wholly different properties than the substance
in the crystalloidal state, yet it must be recognized that both
are states of substances. Albumin, which exists as a colloid
may, nevertheless, be obtained in a crystalline form and vice
versa. Some of the commonest salts may form colloids. Thus
sodium acetate possesses the qualities of a crystalloid in watery
solution, while sodium stearate belongs to the colloids. Most of
the typical colloids, like the proteids, may be broken down by
the digestive ferments to form crystalloids. These ferments

COLLOIDS AND LIVING PHENOMENA 467

break down the proteids into bodies intermediate between
erystalloids and colloids. The proteoses, which are the first
products in this metabolism, possess colloidal properties slightly
less marked than the protein itself. The peptones, the next
products in the breaking down process of protein, although not
crystallizable, are, nevertheless, different from colloids and are
true electrolytes. These are the steps that bridge the gap be-
tween colloids and crystalloids. Biochemists of to-day believe
that many substances, perhaps all substances, may exist now in
crystalloidal state and then in colloidal state.

This power of change from the colloidal to the crystalloidal
state, and vice versa, seems to be the very essence of cell life.
According to Wells:

We may look upon cell life as a constant attempt at the establishment
of equilibrium, both chemical and osmotic, because the move toward one
sort of equilibrium is always against the other. All the food-stuffs—fats,
carbohydrates and proteins—are characterized by being colloids when
intact and crystalloids when disintegrated, thus:

colloidal proteins — crystalloid amino acids,
colloidal glycogen — crystalloid sugar,
nondiffusible fats — diffusible soaps and glycerol.

In consequence of this, if the crystalloids diffuse from the blood into
a cell there is at once an excess of this end of the equation, and hastened
by the intracellular enzymes, synthesis to the colloid soon occurs to estab-
lish chemical equilibrium. Chemical changes in the crystalloids, by oxi-
dation, reduction or hydrolysis, upset this chemical equilibrium and hence
further diffusion, synthesis and hydrolysis continue, one upsetting the
other continuously. If equilibrium were established we should have no
further reactions, and the cells would be inactive. The constant upsetting
of the equilibrium is what constitutes cell life.

Perhaps the most interesting characteristic of colloidal sub-
stances is their lability. They may readily be broken down and
built up into other combinations. Moore in speaking of this
lability of the colloids says:

The whole essence of the colloidal condition is that of a balance of play
of energies in the most delicate equilibrium. All the known properties of
colloids can be traced to feeble molecular affinities between the molecules
themselves, causing them to unite into multi-molecules or “ solution aggre-
gates’ and to balance between such affinities and similar feeble affinities
for crystalloids in common solution with them, and for the molecules of
the solvent.

Upon this lability depends the various phases undergone by the
colloids in protoplasm.

Colloids are generally divided into the following phases,
depending on their more liquid or jelly-like condition:

468 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

oo ee

Fig. 2.. DIAGRAM ILLUSTRATING PHASES IN COLLOIDAL Systems. (After Bayliss.)

If the black be regarded as solid phase and the white as the liquid phase, then A rep-
resents a hydrosol, whereas B represents 2 hydrogel.

I. The Hydrosols (dispersed states.)—These are pseudo-
solutions or fine suspensions. Fig. 2, A, represents the typical
hydrosol condition.

Il. The Hydrogels (undispersed states).—These may be
either (a) the emulsion type, or (b) the coagulated or precipi-
tated type (mixtures of emulsions). Fig. 2, B, represents the
typical hydrogel condition.

In hydrosols the colloidal particles (or multi-molecules)
are free and invisible. Each particle is distinctly separated
from every other particle and behaves as a single unit or mole-

Fic. 38. CELL or Spirogyra. (From Bayliss, after Gaidukov.) A, under ordinary
microscope; B, under ultra-microscope.

Fic. 4. DIAGRAM ILLUSTRATING THE APPEARANCE OF PHOTOPLASM WITHIN THE
CELL. (After Bailey.) a, fibrillar structure of protoplasm; b, granular structure of
protoplasm; ¢, foam or emulsion structure of protoplasm.

cule in solution. The particles of the colloids do not enter into
true solutions, but usually exist in the form of suspensions
which exhibit Brownian movement. This can be clearly seen
when colloidal solutions are examined with the ultra-micro-

COLLOIDS AND LIVING PHENOMENA 469

scope. Figs. 3, B and 5, a—e show the appearance of the sus-
pended colloidal particles in the living cells of Spirogyra and
of the dog’s nervous system as seen under the ultra-microscope.

We know that most colloids form suspensions only from
still another line of evidence. Substances which enter into true
solution alter the freezing point as well as the boiling point of
the solvent, but colloids change these points very little if at all.

Fig. 5 (a—e). LivinGc NERVE CELLS FROM THE DORSAL ROOT GANGLIA OF THE
DoG AS SEPN WITH THE ULTRA-Microscorpr. The colloidal particles within the cells
exhibit Brownian movements. (From Bayliss, after Marinesco.)

Furthermore, true solutions, such as formed by crystalloids,
exert an osmotic pressure while suspensions show no such
behavior. Typical colloids do not exert osmotic pressure, hence
form no real solutions.

Some colloids, however, have been recently shown to form
real solutions; for instance, Starling has shown that the pro-
teins dissolved in the blood serum possess an osmotic pressure,.
hence they form true solutions. Pfeffer has also shown by his
experiments on gum arabic and glue that these colloids exert
osmotic pressure, therefore forming real solutions.

When, for some cause or another, such as a change in the
environment of the hydrosol, the multi-molecules of the colloid
are aggregated together, a hydrogel is produced. In this condi-
tion we have a diphasic system of the colloid, consisting of (1)
a very dilute solution of the smaller multi-molecules, and (2) a

470 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

more or less solid of huge molecular complexes of the colloid
containing comparatively little of the solvent. In forming the
hydrogel there has occurred more or less of a setting of the
solid colloidal particles.

When this setting of the colloidal particles has occurred in
spherules far apart and separated by the fluid medium, then an
emulsion is produced. If the setting continues, then a mesh-
work of the solid particles may be formed, enclosing the liquid
phase. In this way a foam or reticulum may be produced, and
the meshwork may take on many forms.

It is thus evident that in this manner the various structures
found in living cells, foam structures, granular structures, net-
works, spindle fibers, chromosomes and the like may originate.

Fic. 6. THE RAapDIOLARIAN Thalassicolla pelagica HArCKEL, showing the foamy,
emulsion-like character of the protoplasm. (From Doflein, after R. Hertwig.)
Fic, 7, THE EMULSION-LIKE APPPARANCE OF THE PROTOPLASM OF A RUPTURED OVUM
OF Fucus. (After Seifriz.)

Fig. 4 illustrates the various appearances which the protoplasm
of the cell may assume.

Colloidal gels are of two kinds, (1) reversible, and (2) irre-
versible.

A reversible gel is one in which a reversal of the condition
that produced gelation causes it to return to its original state,
the sol state. For example, when gelatin in the hydrosol
condition is cooled it solidifies and assumes the hydrogel condi-
tion. Upon heating this hydrogel it will again assume the
hydrosol condition.

On the other hand, an irreversible gel is one in which a re-
versal of the condition that produced gelation does not cause
the colloid to return to its original condition. For instance,

COLLOIDS AND LIVING PHENOMENA 471

when the albumen of the white of egg is heated it solidifies and
assumes a gel condition. When this gel is cooled it remains un-
changed and never reverts to its original hydrosol condition.
All living matter is characterized by its richness in colloids
of the emulsion type (Figs. 6 and 7) which present a remark-
able degree of reversibility. Protoplasm is really an aggregate
of colloids holding water for the most part, in which are con-

Fic. 8, A and B. Two STAGES IN THP CLOTTING OF CASEIN, showing the aggre-
gation of the finer colloidal particles of A into the coarser clumps shown in B.
(From Mathews after Stubel.)

Fie. 9, A and B. AGGREGATION BY ELECTROLYTES OF THE BLOOD CORPUSCLES OF

THE FisH Scyllium canicula, suspended in half-normal sodium chloride. (From
Bayliss after Mines.) A, effect of addition of 0.0008 molar cerium chloride; B, effect
of addition of 0.08 molar cerium chloride. The dilute solution causes aggregation
by reversing the sign of the charge (from negative to positive), of a part of the
corpuscles. The concentrated solution causes a rapid reversal of all the corpuscles
from negative to the positive sign, causing them to remain suspended.

tained electrolytes and non-electrolytes. Hence, the chemical
reactions of protoplasm occur in dilute solutions of electrolytes.

Electrolytes when in solution dissociate into ions, the posi-
tive ions, or cations, bearing positive charges of electricity,
while the negative ions, or anions, bear negative charges of
electricity. Thus when NaCl is dissolved in water, a dissocia-
tion of the Na and Cl ions occurs. The Na ions bear positive
charges while the Cl ions bear negative charges. The Na ions
are therefore cations, whereas, the Cl ions are the anions.
Within recent years it has been found that ions may exist not

472 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

only as charged atoms, but as charged groups of atoms (rad-
icals) as well.

Many biochemists and physiologists now believe that the
physiological action of many substances depends upon the elec-
trical charges borne by the ionized particles, and not on the
chemical nature of the particles themselves.

Colloidal particles have been shown to bear electrical
charges. The colloid particle, although consisting of many
atoms, behaves as a single charged particle as far as its elec-
trical charge is concerned. In general acid colloidal particles
are electro-negative and alkaline colloidal particles are electro-
positive. The charged particles induce the opposite charge in
the surrounding water or other fluid medium in which they are
suspended. If the colloidal particles are charged with positive
electricity, the surrounding fluid medium is charged negatively
and vice versa. Also, the number of charges in the surround-
ing fluid is proportional to the surface of the colloidal particle.
If by any means (such as heat, electricity, internal chemical
changes, etc.), the colloidal particles are thrown together into
aggregations, then a reduction in the amount of surface of the
particles occurs, bringing about a readjustment in the electrical
conditions of the surrounding medium. Conversely, when a
change occurs in the electrical state of the medium surround-
ing the colloidal particles, a readjustment in the latter occurs.
For instance, when the density of the charge of particles is
diminished aggregation leading to coagulation (Fig. 8, A and
B) is brought about ; when the density of the charge is increased
a still finer division of the particles is produced (Fig. 9, A and
B). Either change might occur as a result of the chemical
changes in the particles themselves or in the conditions sur-
rounding them.

Hardy has made a very extensive study of the electrical
properties of colloids. Guyer summarizes Hardy’s work as
follows:

Hardy, using a sol of proteid has shown: (1) that a gel is produced by
the addition of electrolytes, but not by the addition of non-electrolytes un-
less they act chemically; (2) that the gelation produced by electrolytes is
due to the electric charge carried by the ion, inasmuch as identical results
follow the use of an electric current from a battery; (3) that the signs
of the electric charges carried by the ions (plus or minus) determine the
movements of colloidal particles either keeping them in suspension as a sol
or causing them to fall into the gel condition (e. g., a sol having its col-
loidal particles negatively charged will pass into a gel state if plus ions are
added or if the plus electrode of a battery be introduced).

Certain daily events may be interpreted intelligently by
bearing in mind the above facts. For instance, the irritability

COLLOIDS AND LIVING PHENOMENA 475

of the human organism depends largely on the state of the
colloids in the nervous system. When these colloids go into a
gel condition the individual becomes irritable. When this con-
dition is prevented irritability is lost. To take concrete ex-
amples:

1. Mechanical stimulation such as a shock, push, blow or
electrical stimulation would cause neighboring colloidal particles
on which they acted to coalesce, thus reducing their surface.
Since the colloidal particles are normally positively charged,
they induce the negative charge in the surrounding medium.
Any reduction in the surface of the colloidal particles releases
a portion of the negative charges previously induced in the
fluid medium. These released negative charges act on the
neighboring colloidal particles, etc. Thus a wave of gelation
results, passing over the nerve, with the liberation of negative
ions at the end of the process which call the muscles into play,
resulting in action.

2. Stimulation by Light and Ether Vibrations.—Protoplasm
is stimulated by light due to the charges of the electrons in the
sun. When these electrons move through the ether they set up
vibrations which, when they come in contact with protoplasm,
act like ions, setting up a wave of gelation over the colloids in
nerves, thereby bringing about a response.

3. Chemical Stimulation.—The action of certain chemicals,
like chloroform, ether and alcohol on protoplasm may be ex-
plained on a similar basis. These substances increase the
hydrosol condition, thereby preventing irritability. So long as
these drugs are administered the colloidal particles of the nerv-
ous system are divided more finely, thereby causing a loss of
consciousness. When these substances wear off consciousness
returns. The above explains the values of ether and chloro-
form as anesthetics. The action of alcohol or whiskey during
a snake bite may also be explained on the same grounds. Snake
poison causes a coagulation of the colloidal particles. Alcohol
prevents such precipitation.

On such a basis we can readily understand the rapid changes
in the consistency of protoplasm—changes from more rigid con-
ditions to those that are more fluid and vice versa. Only by
understanding the reactions of the three substances entering
into living combinations, namely, water, crystalloids, and col-
loids, can we hope to intelligently comprehend such living pro-
cesses as metabolism, growth, irritability and the like. In a
word “life or the life process is a reaction of the colloids,” and
in order to understand life or the life process the biologist of
to-day must give his moments to the study of the colloids.

474 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE PITTSBURGH EXPERIMENT STATION OF THE BUREAU OF MINES.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

DEDICATION OF THE PITTS- | labor and scientific endeavor. It is

BURGH EXPERIMENT STA-
TION OF THE BUREAU
OF MINES

-a very happy circumstance that with
| this meeting should be associated
the ceremonies connected with the

THE new experiment station of dedication of the new buildings in
the U. S. Bureau of Mines at Pitts- | Pittsburgh of the Bureau of Mines.”
burgh, which has been in use tor William C. Sproul, governor of
about two years, was formally dedi- Pennsylvania, spoke of the impor-
cated to public service on Septem- tance of the Mining Industry in the
ber 29, the dedication ceremonies state, of the contribution which the
having been postponed on account | Bureau of Mines has made and can
of the emergency of war. E. V. make to its continued progress, and
Babcock, mayor of the city, wel- | pledged the cooperation of the state
comed the guests and official dele- in every way in helping the bureau
gates and this welcome was re- to do the things it is necessary and
sponded to by A. T. Vogelsang, first | desirable to do in the development

assistant secretary of the interior,
who read the following telegram
from President Wilson: “ Will you
not be kind enough to convey my
most hearty greetings to the assem-
biage at Pittsburgh next Monday.
I wish that I might be present to
express my very deep interest in
the work being done by such instru-
mentalities for the increase of pro-
duction, the safeguarding of life
and the raising of the standard of

of the Pittsburgh station to its full
usefulness. He also urged the co-
operation of the men who do the
work in the industry and the men
who have the properties in which
the work is done. J. Parke Chan-
ning, the representative of the
American Institute of Mining and
Metallurgical Engineers, discussed
the problem of production and dis-
| tribution in industry and the indus-
trial problems of the day.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

The key of the building was
formally turned over to Director
Van H. Manning by Assistant Sec-
retary Vogelsang, who said that he
-hoped the key would never lock the
building, but be regarded rather as
a symbol of the purpose and the
function of the bureau to unlock
the secrets of nature for the use
and benefits of all mankind. Mr.
Manning in receiving the key said:
“Tt is indeed to me a very high
privilege to accept from you this
key to this magnificent structure
which has been contributed to the
cause of humanity by our Govern-
ment. It is an honor to be the rep-
resentative who has been selected
to accept this emblem which stands
for safety and efficiency in the uni-
versal industry and I hereby pledge
to you, Mr. Secretary, and to you
who represent capital and _ labor,
employer and employee in the min-
ing and allied industries, my allegi-
ance to the cause we represent.”

The Pittsburgh station and its
work, the development of the Bu-
reau of Mines and the plans of its
founder, Dr. J. A. Holmes, are de-

seribed in an illustrated program)

THE PITTSBURGH STATION FROM THE

headquarters

475

published at the time of the dedica-
tion. It states that forming a part
of the mining division of the Bureau
of Mines, the coal mining section
has its headquarters at the Pitts-
burgh Experiment Station, which is
centrally situated with respect to
the large coal fields of Pennsylvania,
West Virginia, Ohio and other near-
by states. For the purposes of or-
ganization the mining regions of the
country are divided into several dis-
tricts, a mining engineer’ being
placed in charge of the work of the
bureau in each district. In addi-
tion to the corps of engineers main-

‘tained at Pittsburgh under the di-

rect supervision of the chief coal
mining engineers, district engineers
whose investigations pertain chiefly
to coal mining are stationed at
Birmingham, Ala., Vincennes, Ind.,
Urbana, Ill., Seattle, Wash., Golden,
Colorado, and McAlester, Okla.
The mine safety section has its
at Pittsburgh with
safety stations also at McAlester,
Okla.; Vincennes, Ind.; Birming-
ham, Ala.; Jellico, Tenn.; Seattle,
Wash.; Norton, Va., and Berkeley,
Calif. Six new all-steel cars have

REAR,

476

been built to replace the old re-
modeled cars, three of which, how-
ever, are still in use. Five auto

trucks are also maintained for train-
ing work and for emergency use in
the event of mine disaster. Other
departments are the fuels section,
the electrical section, the mechanical
section, the chemical section, the
analytical laboratory, the gas lab-
oratory, the gas-mask laboratory,
the natural gas research unit, the
microscopic research unit, the petro-
leum laboratory, the explosives
chemical laboratory, the metallurgi-
cal and metallographic laboratories,
and the pnysical laboratory, the
experimental mine near Princeton,
Pa., explosive section and the ad-
ministrative section.

THE BUREAU OF MINES AND |
JAMES AUSTIN HOLMES

THE work of the U. S. Bureau of
Mines, as defined in the legislation
creating it, is to conduct scientific
and technologic investigations con- |
cerning mining and the preparation
of mineral substances with a view
to the increase of health, safety and
efficiency in the mineral industries.
Its work has two phases: investiga-
tive, to determine the best proce-
dure along these lines; and co-
operative, to assist industry in
utilizing to the fullest practicable
degree the improved practises thus”
developed. To the latter end it wel-|
comes the cooperation of operators,
workmen’s organizations, commer- |
cial bodies, technical societies, state
and other government officials, and
every one who is interested in the
advancement of the mining and
metallurgical industry.

The research branch has charge
ot investigation which is _ chiefly
carried on in the experiment sta-
tiens, although a large part is per-
formed in the field. For purposes
of technical supervision, there are
five divisions of the research work;

'work was

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mining, metallurgical, petroleum,
mechanical equipment (which in-
cludes the utilization of fuel) and
mineral technology.

The operations branch carries on
the cooperative work of the bureau
that has been initiated by the re-
search branch. The division of
mine rescue cars and stations car-
ries on mine rescue and first aid
work at actual disasters, trains
thousands of miners yearly to per-
form such work, and promotes in-
terest in safety in mining through
every means at its command. The
division of education and informa-
tion facilitates the making available
to the mining public of the work
done by the other branches, through
publication of researches and sta-
tistics, exhibits, motion pictures,
and the dissemination of informa-
tion as to the laws governing the
mining industry.

The foundation of the bureau was
due in large measure to the efforts
or the late Professor James Austin
Holmes. When state geologist of
North Carolina, he was chosen to
organize the department of mines
and metallurgy of the Louisiana
Purchase Exposition at St. Louis.
His creative imagination saw there
au opportunity to secure results of
permanent value through the an-
alyzing and testing of the coal re-
sources of the United States and of
structural materials in connection

'with the exhibition, and this was

done under the direction of a com-
mission of which he was a member.
After the close of the exposition the
continued under his
charge. The testing plant was sub-
sequently transferred to the James-
tcwn Exposition and finally to the
Arsenal grounds at Pittsburgh. In
1907 the technologic branch of the
U. 8. Geological Survey was organ-
ized with Dr. Holmes in charge.

At that time the United States
had the unenviable distinction of

JosepH AUSTIN HOLMES,

The first director of the Bureau of Mines

47

19/4)

being not only the most prodigal
nation in the expenditure of national
but of the lives of its
citizens as well. Its leading place
ir the production of all the prin-
cipal minerai substances was accom-
panied by a wanton loss of life and
health. In 1907 there was an
unusual number of mine explosions,
and the result was a general move-
ment to take steps to prevent the
needless loss of life. These culmi-
nated in the creation of the Bureau
of Mines, in 1910, for the purpose
of increasing health, safety, and
efficiency in the mining industry.
Dr. Holmes was appointed director
ard retained the position until his
untimely death in 1915.

Starting the work at Pittsburgh
placed it in the center of an im-
portant mining and metallurgical
region. Though the work of the
bureau was at first housed in tem-
porary and unsuitable quarters, Dr.
Holmes had a vision of a great ex-
perimental station for mining,
where all kinds of accidents could
be studied, and methods developed
for their prevention, which miners
and operators alike could feel was
their station and could come to for
information and education. It was
also his conception that this sta-
tion should help to stop the waste
in mining resulting from the in-
efficient methods employed and the
excessive competition in the coal in-
dustry. To this end he foresaw the
need for research laboratories for
chemical and physical investigation
of gases, explosives and mineral
substances, and equipment for the
testing of mine lamps and other
machinery, and finally, of the estab-
lishment by the bureau of such
agencies as would result in the
training in the use of rescue appa-
ratus and in giving first aid to the
injured. The fruition of Dr.
Holmes’s work is the experiment sta-
tion which has now been dedicated. |

resources,

ot

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE BRITISH NATIONAL
PHYSICAL LABORATORY
AND SIR RICHARD
GLAZEBROOK

As Dr. J. A. Holmes was mainly
responsible for the establishment
and development of the Bureau of
Mines and Dr. S. W. Stratton is for
the Bureau of Standards, so in Eng-
land Sir Richard Glazebrook has
been director of the National Phys-
ical Laboratory since its inception.
He retired on September 18, his
sixty-fifth birthday, and is suc-
ceeded by Professor J. E. Petavel,
professor of engineering and direc-
tor of the Whitworth Laboratory in
the University of Manchester.

The London Times remarks that
“Sir Richard Glazebrook has con-
trolled the fortunes of the National
Physical Laboratory from its small
beginnings in 1899 to its present
great place in the scientific organ-
ization of the nation. It was first
intended merely to carry out in-
vestigations required in connection
with the manufacture and testing
of instruments of precision, and in
1902, when it was moved to new
buildings at Teddington, it had only
two departments and a staff of
twenty-six. It has now seven sci-
entific departments, a_ secretariat,
and a staff of over 600 persons.
These deal with heat, optics, acous-
tics and molecular physics, with
electricity, metrology, engineering,
metallurgy, the forms of ships and
aerial machines, and aero-dynamics.
It gives advice on all questions in-
volving the physical properties of
matter, the strength and quality of
materials, gauges and _ standards.
During the war it rendered invalu-
able service. In the financial year
ending in March, 1918, the Ministry
of Munitions alone paid it £42,000
for work done, and the expenditure
was not on manufacture, but merely
on examining and testing. Until
last year the Royal Society was the

Str RIcHARD GLAZEBROOK,

tetiring Director of the British National Physical Laboratory.

480 THE
gcverning body of the laboratory,
and conducted its affairs with the
of a general board of
thirty-six members, of whom twelve
were nominees of industrial and
institutions. But the
responsibility was heavy
and increasing, and from April 1,
1218, the Department of Scientific
and Industrial Research took over
the burden, but assumes only the
control necessary for an accounting
authority. The Times says “Sir
Richard will hand over to his dis-
tinguished successor, Professor Pe-
tavel, not only an institution of
great and growing usefulness, but a
tradtion of harmonious cooperation
between science and industry. He
has provided the new Department
of Scientific and Industrial Research
with a working organization § suffi-
cient to justify their existence, and
with a model on which we may sup-
pose that their most successful
creations, the Industrial Research
Councils, have been formed.”

assistance

commercial
financial

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Dr. Cyril Hopkins, head of the de-
partment of agronomy of the Uni-
versity of Illinois, and of Dr. August
Hoch, formerly director of the Psy-
chiatric Institute on Ward’s island,
New York.

Dr. W. H. Herdman, professor of
zoology in the University of Liver-
pool, who has been general secre-
tary of the British Association for
the Advanc2ment of Science since

|

SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

1903, has been elected president of
the association.—The Willard Gibbs
gold medal was presented on Sep-
tember 26 te Professor William A.
Noyes, director of the department
of chemistry at the University of
Mlinois, for special work in chem-
istry for the government performed
curing the war.

Mr. Arthur Balfour has’ been
nominated for election as chancel-
ler of Cambridge University, in suc-
cession to his brother-in-law, the
late Lord Rayleigh.—William Mc-
Dougall, reader in mental _ phi-
lesophy in Oxford University, has
been elected professor of psychol-
ogy at Harvard University to fill
the chair vacant by the death of

Hugo Miinsterberg.—Mme. Curie
has been appointed professor of
radiology in the Warsaw Univer-
sity.

Professor Vito Volterra, who holds
the chair of mathematical physics in
the University of Rome and is a
member of the Italian Senate, will
deliver a series of Hitchcock lec-
tures at the University of Cal-
fornia from October 6 to 17. This
will be the second series of Hitch-
cock lectures this semester, Pro-
fessor W. J. V. Osterhout, of Har-
vard University, having just com-
pleted the first series on the general

subject, ‘Fundamental life pro-
cesses.” Professor Volterra will
lecture on “The propagation of

electricity ”’ and “ Functional equa-
tions.”

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

DECEMBER, 1919

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION
IN THE LIGHT OF HEREDITY AND DEVELOPMENT?

By EDWIN GRANT CONKLIN
PROFESSOR OF BIOLOGY IN PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

HE general theory of organic evolution undertakes to
explain by natural processes the origin of the existing

world of living things, and in particular it seeks to account for
three classes of phenomena, namely, (1) The diversities (varie-
ties, species, genera, etc.) of the living world; (2) progressive
organization (increasing complexity of structure and function)
from the lowest to the highest organisms and (3) the fitnesses
(adaptations, etc.) of living beings. Its aim is nothing less
than a mechanistic explanation of the origin, development and
present state of the entire world of life; this is really an enor-
mous undertaking and it is not surprising that this ultimate
objective has not yet been reached, indeed it is probable that it
may never be fully attained; but at least the problems of organic
evolution are in process of being more clearly defined and some
promising beginnings have been made toward their solution.
To insist, as some have done, that the theory of evolution has
failed because it has not yet solved all of these problems is to
underestimate both the magnitude of the problems concerned
and the progress which has been made toward their solution; to
reject evolution, as others have done, because the problems are
too great to be solved by the scientific method, is to renounce
the slow and sure progress of science in favor of pure specula-
tion and mysticism in which no progress at all is possible.

Scientists no longer discuss the question as to whether evolu-
tion has occurred, but there is much conflict of opinion as to
how it has occurred. The fact of evolution stands fast; present

1 William Ellery Hale Lectures before the National Academy of Sci-
ences, Washington, April 16 and 18, 1917.

VOL. vil.—31.

482 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

uncertainties, hypotheses and theories concern only the factors.
Unfortunately this distinction between fact and factors has not
been appreciated by many persons who are not students of this
subject and consequently they have assumed erroneously that
doubts as to the latter implied uncertainty as to the former.
The two great systems of evolutionary philosophy, known as
Lamarckism and Darwinism, are hypotheses as to the factors of
evolution, and, if one or both of these should prove to be erro-
neous, it would not shake our confidence in the truth of evolu-
tion itself.

The mechanism of organic evolution is an enormous subject
and many phases of it I should be unable to present except in a
superficial manner; fortunately a comprehensive discussion of
this topic is rendered unnecessary by the lectures of my imme-
diate predecessor in this series.? I shall therefore limit my dis-
cussion to experimental and analytical studies of inheritance
and development in their bearings on evolution. Even in this
more limited area I must draw largely upon the work of others.
My own researches have lain very largely in the domain of cellu-
lar biology and doubtless to many naturalists of the old school
this field seems very remote from that of the origin of species.
But in biology all roads lead to evolution and, though some of
these are highways and others only by-paths, the inhabitant of
any quarter of this world may come to its center by the road
which passes his own door—by which simile I hope to forestall
the criticism that my own field of work does not lie on certain
main highways of evolution and that I do not attempt in these
lectures to traverse all the routes that lead to the Eternal Theory.

I. EVOLUTION, HISTORICAL AND EXPERIMENTAL

In the development of science there has been a general move-
ment from the methods of observation and description to those
of analysis and experiment. Biology as a whole is just now
making this transition; physiology has long been experimental,
but only within the past quarter century have experimental
methods been used extensively in the study of morphology,
embryology, heredity and evolution. Biology is no longer a
study of living things with the life left out, and evolution is no
longer merely a study of the beaches where the tides of life
have been. For long, evolution was studied and regarded
merely as a past process which had flourished mightily

In the dark backward and abysm of time

but which had practically ceased to-day. As a _historico-
2 Henry Fairfield Osborn, “ The Origin and Evolution of Life.”

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 485

scientific subject its results were studied and their cause sur-
mised—all at very long range. As a past process it was ap-
proached only through the static branches of biology, such as
Classification, Morphology, and Paleontology.

1. Classification and Evolution

To Darwin and his contemporaries evolution was largely a
question of species and their origin, although it is true that
Darwin laid much broader foundations for his theory than can
be found in Classification alone, extending them into almost
every field of biology and thus anticipating many recent devel-
opments of this subject. Nevertheless, to most naturalists of
that period the transmutation of species seemed to be a problem
for the systematists. It was in his famous “ Essay on Classifi-
cation” that Louis Agassiz attacked the new theory, and it was
in the field of systematic botany that Asa Gray gave it such
effective support. I remember with what scorn I once heard
Cope say of Weismann, “‘ He does not know species, and yet he
presumes to discuss their origin.” Now we ask, “ Does any one
know species?” and we look to the experimentalist for an
answer, for the geneticist has shown how extraordinarily com-
plex a species may be. Now we recognize that the evolution of
a Linnean species is a problem akin to the origin of genera or
larger groups, to be approached only by analogy and specula~
tion. The experimental evolutionist deals with variations, mu-~
tations, elementary or incipient species which can be studie&
effectively only in pedigreed cultures.

2. Morphology and Evolution

The earlier morphologists studied the structure of various
organs and systems in different species and in different stages
of individual development and guessed more or less shrewdly
as to the manner in which these structures had evolved. It is
amusing now to recall how almost any group of organisms could
be shown, by those who had made a special study of that group,
to be ancestral to many other groups and how easy it was to
construct “‘ phylogenetic trees” or to explain the origin of par-
ticular structures by pure speculation. Whenever modifications
of a structure could be arranged in a nicely graded series it was
assumed that the actual course of the evolution of this structure
had been determined, and not infrequently it seems to have been
assumed that the course of evolution revealed its cause. Now
we know that the minor changes in evolution do not always oc-
cur in a nicely graded series, but sometimes by sudden or dis-

484 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

continuous changes, while the course of evolution reveals only
the direction and area in which its causes must operate, but not
the causes themselves.

3. Paleontology and Evolution

Of all students of evolution the paleontologist has the most
direct evidence as to its general course in the past but he has
also the most indirect and uncertain means of determining its
intimate causes, for he is farthest removed from it as a living
process which can be dealt with experimentally. Consequently
for the paleontologist as well as for the systematist and mor-
phologist the methods and causes of evolution afforded a fertile
field for an active imagination and as a result almost every pos-
sible theory was proposed, but none were demonstrated. The
subject appealed to imagination, but not to verification.

4, Experimental Evolution

As long as evolution was regarded merely as a past process
it could be studied only as an historic phenomenon. The recog-
nition of evolution as a present process makes it at once an ex-
perimental as well as an historical science, and its problems are
not merely those of the systematist, morphologist and paleon-
tologist, but also those cf the geneticist, embryologist, cytologist,
physiologist, and bio-chemist. In short all branches of biology
now center in this great theory. Furthermore, the only possible
method of really determining the causes of evolution and of
demonstrating the mechanism involved is by means of ex-
periments.

(a) Deals only with Diversities or Minor Changes.—The
study of contemporary evolution must of necessity deal with
relatively minute changes in organism, with the production of
mere diversities. The greater steps in evolution, such as the
origin of species, genera and larger groups, and all progressive
evolution, can not be dealt with experimentally unless such ex-
periments are continued for long periods of time or unless arti-
ficial means are found of speeding up the evolutionary processes.
Indeed it may be objected that until these minor changes have
accumulated so that they actually give rise to new species com-
parable to those existing to-day in nature, we shall not be sure
that they are real steps in evolution,—the materials out of
which the many diverse forms of animals and plants have come
into existence. Unfortunately this is only too true, and conse-
quently evolution in its larger aspects is now and must long re-
main a theory rather than a demonstration, and yet the evi-

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 485

dences that some of these minor changes, such as variations and
mutations, are first steps in the making of species and still
higher groups is so extremely probable that it would be un-
reasonable to deny it. It is at least a probable and reasonable
hypothesis and we know of no other which is either reasonable
or probable.

(b) Rise of Experimental Biology.—During the last two
decades of the nineteenth century the experimental method be-
gan to be used in the study of ontogeny and phylogeny and an
indirect though most important result of such experiments was
the introduction of a more critical spirit into morphology and a
growing dissatisfaction with speculations on the course or cause
of phylogeny. For some years there was conflict between the
“»yure morphologists” and the “experimentalists” as to the
relative value of observation and experiment, but now so com-
pletely has our point of view changed that morphology as a
purely observational study of dead “material” has almost
ceased to exist, and in many institutions professorships in mor-
phology have become professorships in experimental zoology or
botany. And yet there is no magical power in experimental
methods which renders the older methods of observation anti-
quated or useless. As a method of investigation experiment
alone is no better and probably is not as good as observation
alone; it is only when experimental methods are used to supple-
ment observational ones that the best results are obtained.

(c) Iconoclasm of Experimentalists—The experimental
method, whether in morphology, embryology, or evolution is
“nothing if not critical.” In the first enthusiasm for the new
method its advocates began by discrediting or discarding conclu-
sions based upon mere observation and reflection. But scientific
theories are not necessarily false because they have been come at
by observation or logic; clear thinking is essential to scientific
progress as well as careful experiments, and brains as well as
eyes and hands play an important part in the discovery of truth.
Nevertheless there is probably no other scientific doctrine which
shows a greater need of caution, criticism and experimental
confirmation than does the theory of evolution. In evolution no
less than in other scientific fields frequently the most complex
hypotheses are devised to account for things which have no real
existence, as for example attempts to explain the hereditary
transmission of acquired somatic characters, the telescoping of
phylogeny into ontogeny, the transformation of one adult organ-
ism into another, etc. Science sometimes becomes so lumbered
up and confused by many false theories that the best way of

486 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

advancing knowledge is by clearing the ground of errors, and
this is especially true of evolutionary theories because of their
appeal to imagination and their difficulty of verification.

(d) Extravagant Hopes of Experimentalists.—In the first
enthusiasm over the application of experiment to the problems
of evolution many extravagant hopes and predictions were
made. Not only species, but even whole faunas and floras were
to be artificially made “ while you wait.” But organisms have
shown themselves to be wonderfully stable and resistant to
change. Modifications of all sorts can be produced but few if
any of these are inherited. The living thing which is delicate
and plastic beyond all comparison is yet remarkably stable and
stubborn. The results of experimental evolution as compared
with the anticipations of twenty years ago have been distinctly
disappointing; and yet progress has been made, and in particu-
lar many facts are more definite, many ideas more clear and
many old theories have been shown to be untenable while a few
have been more firmly established than ever before. Probably
more progress has been made since the year 1900 in understand-
ing the factors of evolution than in all previous centuries. And
this is true largely because of the epoch-making work which has
been done during the past fifteen years in bringing to light the
factors of individual development.

5. Genetics and Cytology—the Recent Lines of Progress

The two fields in which our knowledge of the causes of evo-
lution has made the greatest and most substantial progress
within recent years are genetics and cytology, the one dealing
with the inherited characteristics of successive generations of
individuals, the other with the cellular bases of these character-
istics in the germ cells and the transformations which these
undergo in development; the former with the analysis of the
developed organism into its constituent characters, the latter
with the analysis of the germ cells with especial reference to the
material basis of heredity. Although at first these two lines of
work seemed very distinct the researches of the past fifteen or
twenty years have shown that they are most intimately related
and each has shed a flood of light upon the other. In the com-
bination of these two lines of research so totally different in
methods and apparently so unrelated in results, our knowledge
of the methods and causes of evolution has been greatly ex-
tended. For the first time we know pretty definitely where to
look for evolutionary changes, for the first time we are getting
at the real mechanism of evolution.

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 487

Since the rediscovery in 1900 of the long-forgotten princi-
ples of inheritance, which were first made known by Mendel in
1866, remarkable progress has been made in the field of
genetics—indeed almost all that is known concerning the exact
manner of hereditary transmission has been learned since that
year, and it is probable, as Morgan has said, that the funda-
mental principles of such transmission have already been dis-
covered. The great and almost endless problems which stretch
out before the geneticist have to do with a more minute study
of the factors or causes of hereditary transmission. In similar
manner the grosser facts as to the structure and development
of the germ cells and as to the transformation of the fertilized
egg into the embryo and adult are well known, but we have
made the merest beginning in the study of the causes of this
development and of the exact manner in which the germinal
organization is transformed into developed characters. De-
velopment is indeed a vastly greater and more complicated prob-
lem than heredity, if by the latter is meant merely the transmis-
sion of germinal units from one generation to the next.

Thus the study of genetics, cytology or of any other science
repeats the same general process which has characterized the
study of evolution itself,—the outstanding facts are first estab-
lished with relative ease, the factors are determined only after
prolonged research. Furthermore the discovery of ‘‘ the cause”
of any phenomenon evermore leads to new inquiries as to the
cause of this cause, so that research is never finished and knowl-
edge is never complete.

II. ONTOGENY AND PHYLOGENY
Intimate Relations of the Two

Ontogeny or the origin of individuals and phylogeny or the
origin of races are two different aspects of one and the same
thing, namely organic development. There is a remarkable
parallelism between the two, and in particular the factors or
causes of development are essentially the same in both. Phy-
logeny is a present process as certainly as is ontogeny. Just as
the earth rotates on its axis, revolves in its orbit and the whole
solar system moves through space, so organisms undergo em-
bryonic development, specific development and phyletic develop-
ment, all being parts of one great process. All detailed study of
evolution is necessarily a study of successive generations of
individuals, and all analytical or experimental study of the
causes of evolution resolves itself into a study of the factors
involved in the genesis of individuals; there is no other possible

488 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

method of approaching the problem. For this reason the stu-
dent of ontogeny is especially well fitted to deal with the factors
of phylogeny. The study of the factors involved in the genesis
of individuals under various conditions of inheritance and en-
vironment reveals all that can certainly be known regarding the
methods and causes of the evolution of races and species.

1. Development is Real and not Illusory

Ontogeny or the development of an individual from the egg
to the adult condition consists in progressive, coordinate dif-
ferentiation of both structures and functions. To a certain
extent differentiations are already present in the germ cells,
but during the course of development their number is greatly
increased. This increase in differentiation is caused by modifi-
cation of previously existing differentiations, by transformation
rather than by formation de novo, by evolution rather than by
creation. New things appear in the course of ontogeny because
of new combinations of things already present, just as new
chemical substances with new qualities appear as a result of
new combinations of elements.

In similar manner evolution is progressive diversification
and adaptation. New species, new adaptations, new forms and
new functions appear in the course of evolution because of new
combinations of characters already present, or rather of the
elements out of which characters are built. If any Mendelian
of the stricter sort is inclined to question this statement and to
affirm that characters or their germinal factors come out of any
combination exactly as they went into it and that they have
therefore suffered no permanent change, let him consider that
any permanent change or mutation of a germinal factor or gene
must consist in some new combination of the elements which
go to make up the factor itself. For the very possibility of any
change or mutation proves that the thing which changes is com-
posed of more elementary units, and this is true not only of
organisms, characters and germinal factors, but also of mole-
cules and atoms. Those things only can be absolutely change-
less which are absolutely elemental, and vice versa, those only
are absolutely elemental which are absolutely changeless. Or-
ganic evolution must of necessity consist in new combinations of
the parts of which organisms are composed, whether those parts
be organs, characters, genes, molecules or atoms.

Neither ontogney nor phylogeny consists in making visible
what was present but invisible before, much less is it a mere
simplification of an original complex by a sorting out of certain

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 489

characters or factors of characters. It will be shown in a later
section that ontogeny does consist to a certain extent in sorting
out different materials present in the egg and in the isolation of
these materials in different cells, but there is also a progressive
formation of new materials during the course of development;
there is in development real increase of complexity in which
new characters appear by a process of “creative synthesis” ;
new combinations of the same old elements give rise to new
qualities, new forms, new functions. In short, development is
real and not illusory, and what is true of ontogeny in this re-
spect is equally true of phylogeny.

2. Development is Progressive and not Retrogressive

Of all false theories and erroneous opinions one of the most
far-reaching and misleading in its effects is that which may be
called the inverted view of development, a view which regards
the adult organism as the starting point in ontogeny or phy-
logeny and which then attempts to explain the transfer of de-
veloped characters from this to the germ. This inverted view of
development is responsible for almost all of the false theories of
development and evolution which now incumber the science
of biology.

(a) Inverted View of Ontogeny.—Before Weismann a false
trend was given to theories of development by neglecting or
misconstruing one of the most elementary facts of ontogeny,
viz., that development proceeds from the egg to the mature
organism and not in the reverse direction. It was known, of
course, that the egg produces the hen, but it was believed that
the hen in turn produces other eggs, so that the life cycle was
thought to consist of a progressive phase from egg to hen and
a regressive phase from hen to egg (Figs. 1 and 2). It seemed
evident that the mature organism manufactured the germ cells,
and consequently, it was supposed that characters of the adult
organism could be “ reflected on” or condensed in the germ cells
and then reappear in the next generation. Darwin’s hypothesis
of “ pangenesis”’ made this general conception more precise by
assuming that every cell of the body contributes particles or
gemmules to the formation of the germ cells.

Based on Erroneous Cell Theory.—This inverted view of
development, namely that mature organisms make the germ
cells, is the result in large part of erroneous opinions as to the
manner of origin of cells in general and of germ cells in par-
ticular. From the time of the work of Casper Friedrich Wolff
(1759) to that of Remak (1841) it was maintained that “ ves-

490 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 1. DIAGRAM SHOWING THE ERRONEOUS VIEW THAT THD BODY OF HEN PRO-
DUCES THE Eca@ (dotted arrows), while the latter in turn produces the body of the
hen but not the egg.

icles” or cells appeared as droplets in a fundamental substance,
or ‘‘as bubbles of gas appear in fermenting dough.” New cells
were supposed to appear between the old ones by a process
known as “ free cell formation.” A principal feature of the cell
theory of Schwann (1839-41) was that new cells arise in a
homogeneous ground substance, the cytoblasteme, “ like crystals
in a mother liquor.” On the other hand Remak (1841) proved
that cells arise by division of preexisting cells, but for a long
time ‘‘ free cell formation,” or the formation of cells de novo,
was still maintained to be one of the methods by which new
cells arise.

This antiquated conception as to the origin of cells is still
responsible for much rubbish in our theories of evolution and
development, for even at the present day many theories which
grew up under this old conception are still maintained. If
earlier evolutionists had known that every cell comes from a
preceding cell by division and that it thereafter remains abso-
lutely distinct from other cells, taking into itself no living sub-
stance from without but manufacturing its own protoplasm
from food substances, there probably would have been no doc-
trine of “ pangenesis,” of the “reflection of adult characters on
the egg,” of the inheritance of developed somatic characters—
no inverted views of development, heredity and evolution.

pee

Fic, 2. DIAGRAM SHOWING THE TRUE VIEW THAT THE EGG PRODUCES THE BODY OF
THE HEN AND ALSO THD EGG.

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 491

The cellular history of development has demonstrated that
adult organisms do not manufacture germ cells and transmit
their characters to them. Neither germ cells nor any other kind
of cells are formed by the body as a whole, but every cell in the
body comes from a preceding cell by a process of division and it

Fic. 3. DIAGRAM OF LIFE CYCLE OF THE FROG SHOWING THD STEPS BY WHICH THB
EGG GIVES RISH TO THE BODY OF THE FROG AND TO OTHER Eaocs. 1. Fertilized egg;
the stippled area is the mesodermal crescent from which the germ cells come. 2.
Hight cell stage. 3. Thirty-two cell stage. 4. Blastula showing germ cells in heavy
outline. 5-—7. Early to late gastrule showing germ cells in heavy outlines. 8—9. Early
and late tadpoles with germ cells as in preceding figures. 10-11. Metamorphosing
and adult frogs containing germ cells which come in direct lineage from the egg
shown in 1.

grows, not by contributions of protoplasm from other cells, but
by building up its own protoplasm from food substances; and
germ cells are formed not by contributions from all parts of the
body, but by division of preceding cells, which are derived ulti-
mately from the fertilized egg. Development is not a process
which goes forward at one phase and backward at another, but
is always and everywhere a progressive movement from the egg
to the adult and never one in the reverse direction (Fig. 3).
End stages are not added on to previously completed ontogenies
for every inherited change, whether of an end stage or of an
earlier one must be represented by some change in the germ
cell itself.

492 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

(6) The “ Recapitulation Theory.’’—That there is a certain
parallelism between the stages of ontogeny and those of phy-
logeny has long been known, but there has been much difference
of opinion, and there is now a widespread misunderstanding as
to the significance of this parallelism.

(1) Truth and Error of Theory.—The “fundamental bio-
genetic law” of Haeckel affirms that ‘‘ ontogeny is a brief re-
capitulation of phylogeny” or, as some one has picturesquely
expressed it, ‘every organism climbs its own ancestral tree.”

Various other hypotheses such as Lankester’s “ precocious
segregation” and Hyatt’s “law of acceleration” taught that
adult characters tend to appear at earlier and earlier stages in
ontogeny, because they are “‘ reflected back upon the germ cells”
and thus that what were at one time “end stages” in ontogeny
are crowded back into earlier stages, while new end stages are
added. The “fundamental biogenetic law” of Haeckel was based
entirely upon this idea that in the course of evolution new end
stages are added to the ontogeny as it had previously existed.
This conception may be represented by the following diagram
in which the successive stages in phylogeny and ontogeny are
represented in alphabetical series:

Phylogenetic Series Ontogenetie Series
A A
B AB
C ABC
D ABCD
—

Thus the ontogeny of each of these phylogenetic stages was
supposed to recapitulate the entire evolutionary series.

And yet among higher forms there are very many adapta-
tions to embryonic and larval life which have no counterpart in
lower forms and which indeed could not exist in free-living
organisms; such are the embryonic membranes of higher verte-
brates, the yolk-sac of fishes, and the modifications of develop-
ment in these forms and in many of the invertebrates due to
the presence of much yolk, the extraordinary modification of the
larve of many parasites, and the remarkable differences in de-
velopment which are found in different species of almost every
class of animals. Such differences in the ontogenesis of or-
ganisms which are otherwise closely alike demonstrate that cer-
tain evolutionary changes may occur in embryonic stages with-
out greatly modifying adult stages.

On the other hand, in many cases adult stages have under-

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 493

gone much greater changes than have embryonic ones; for ex-
ample Ascidians are known to belong to the phylum Chordata,
Sacculina to the Arthropoda, Myzostomum to the Annelida, etc.,
only because in these cases embryonic or larval stages preserve
ancestral characters long after adult stages have lost them. In
short evolutionary changes may affect any portion of the life
history, and therefore the course of ontogeny is not a sure indi-
cation of the course of phylogeny.

It thus became evident that earlier phylogenetic stages were
not always reproduced in the ontogeny and consequently a dis-
tinction was made between those ontogenetic stages which re-
peated the phylogeny and were called by Haeckel “ palinge-
netic’ and those which did not and were called “‘ ccenogenetic.”
Consequently the phylogenetic and ontogenetic series were rep-
resented as follows:

Phylogenetic Series Ontogenetic Series
A A
B aB
C abC
D abcD
——

Or since ontogeny is greatly shortened as compared with phy-
logeny the course of the two might be represented by the dia-
gram on p. 494 (Fig. 4).

(2) Embryonic Homologies and their Causes.—Neverthe-
less, many organisms which differ widely in adult stages reveal
a surprising degree of resemblance in embryonic stages and in
general embryonic resemblances appear to be more persistent
than adult ones. It is certainly no mere accident that practically
all animals begin their individual existence as fertilized eggs,
that before or during fertilization all eggs produce two polar
bodies, that in animals as far apart as flatworms, annelids and
mollusks the early cleavages of the egg are fundamentally alike
and that where differences exist they have led to the discovery
of rudimentary cells in one form corresponding to well-developed
cells in another (Fig. 5). It is no accident that the eggs of all
chordates have the same type of cytoplasmic localization, that
all develop a notochord and nervous system and mesoderm in
fundamentally the same way, that all vertebrates whatever have
gill slits in embryonic or adult stages, etc. These and thou-
sands of other resemblances of the same sort can be explained
only by assuming that they are homologies or inherited like-
nesses and that forms showing these likenesses are genetically
related. But this does not mean that in higher animals addi-

494 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fig. 4. ANCESTRAL REMINISCENCE IN CLHAVAGH. Showing homologous cells in A,
a polyclade (Leproplana) ; B, a gasteropod (Crepidula) ; GC, a lamellibranch (Unio).
(Modified from Wilson.)

tional stages have been added on to those present in lower forms
or that adult stages of lower animals have been crowded back
into the embryonic life of higher forms as the recapitulation
theory assumed. It does not mean that all organisms are alike
in early stages of development and that they first become unlike
in later stages. We now have direct evidence that several dis-
tinct types of animals have distinct types of eggs; thus there are
the (1) Ccelenterate, (2) Polyclade-Annelid-Mollusk, (3)
Echinoderm, (4) Nematode and (5) Chordate types of egg or-
ganization and these do not converge to a common type in the
earliest stages of ontogeny (Fig. 6). Echinoderms come from
echinoderm eggs, mollusks from mollusk eggs, vertebrates from
vertebrate eggs and “the egg of a frog is as different from the
egg of a hen as a frog is from a hen.”

There are differences of a fundamental order, even in the
earliest stages of development, between a vertebrate and an
invertebrate, and the early development does not reveal the

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 495

CTENOPHORE TURBELLARIAN

Fic. 5. TYPES OF EGG ORGANIZATION IN DIFFERENT ANIMAL PHYLA. Cross
hatched area mesoderm or mesenchyme (mes) ; horizontal lines endoderm (end); un-
shaded area ectoderm (Hct). In the first four figures the pattern of localization is
that found about the time of the first cleavage; in the last two figures the pattern
is that found at a later stage; n.p., neural plate; ch., chorda; e.g., cerebral gan-
glion; v.g., ventral ganglion ; proto., prototroch.

manner in which the one may have been derived from the other.
The annelids do not approach the chordates or echinoderms in
the earliest stages of development any more closely than in the
later stages (Fig. 6). In short there is no convergence toward
a common type as one goes back to earlier and earlier stages of

Prslogeny

Fic. 6. DIAGRAM OF THD PARALLELISM OF ONTOGENY AND PHYLOGENY, the course
of the latter being more roundabout and of the former more direct. Where ontogeny
follows phylogeny most closely we have palingenetic stages, where it departs from
phylogeny the stages are ca@nogenetic.

496 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ontogeny. The recapitulation theory assumes that there is such
a convergence in the early stages, but on the other hand the
accurate study of the “cell lineage” of eggs and embryos shows
that the resemblances and differences between different animals
in the earliest stages of development are of the same order of
magnitude as those between later stages. Homologies of cleav-
age must be due to similarities in the protoplasmic organization
of the cleavage cells, and the same must be said of homologies
of eggs before cleavage begins. Similarities in the protoplasmic
substances of eggs and in the pattern of localization must lie at
the bottom of all later appearing similarities.

The cause of all embryonic homologies is therefore the same
as the cause of adult homologies, viz., inherited likeness in the
protoplasm due to community of descent, and it is only because
there is increase of specialization as development progresses
that the most general resemblances are found in the earliest
stages, while more special resemblances occur only in later ones.
This alone explains the fact that embryonic resemblances are
on the whole more persistent than those of the adult.

(3) Resemblances in Functions and Processes more General
than in Structures.—The stages of phylogeny are not exactly re-
peated in the ontogeny because all conditions both intrinsic and
extrinsic are not the same, but the principles of heredity and
variation, of differentiation and development, are everywhere
the same in all plants and animals and men, and these princi-
ples of ontogeny are at the same time the principles of phy-
logeny. Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny not in all its stages
and forms, but in its factors and principles. All the funda-
mental principles of evolution from ameba to man are in-
volved in the development of a single link in this long chain.

(c) Inverted View of Phylogeny.—A false trend was given
also to all theories of evolution before Weismann by failing to
give sufficient attention to the fact that the germ cells are the
only bond between species as well as between generations. In
older theories of evolution the great fact of ontogeny was neg-
lected and it was generally assumed that one mature form un-
derwent modification by which it was transformed into another.
Adult stages of different types were compared and it was shown
how one could be derived from the other by turning it upside
down, by closing up the old mouth and opening a new one some-
where else, and by making other equally radical changes in a
fully developed organism (Fig. 7). Ontogeny was temporarily
forgotten and the fact was overlooked that mature organisms
do not produce mature organisms, but that each generation
arises from germ cells which alone are continuous from genera-
tion to generation.

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION ° 497

Until recently, evolution was regarded almost entirely from
the standpoint of the developed organism. The great problem —
of evolution was supposed to be the method by which one type
of developed animal or plant gave rise to another type. Mature
organisms are known to undergo changes in response to en-
vironment or to conditions of life and these changes were re-
garded as evolutionary ones. Thus Lamarck supposed that the
numerous modifications which adult plants and animals undergo
in response to conditions of climate, food, use or disuse, etc.,
are real evolutionary changes which convert one type into an-
other, and even down to the present time there are many
naturalists who hold the same view. Indeed many scientists
who would refuse to be classified as Lamarckians, because of
some minor disagreement with the views of the great French
naturalist as to the cause of evolutionary changes or their
method of inheritance, nevertheless hold against all opposition
the main tenet of Lamarckism, viz., that evolutionary changes
are first wrought in mature organisms. The classical illustra-
tions of this, which were cited by Lamarck, are familiar to
every one, such as the elongation of the neck and forelegs of
the giraffe by attempting to reach higher leaves on trees, and
the loss of limbs in snakes because of disuse in the narrow
quarters in which they live. Many somewhat similar illustra-
tions of this view that evolutionary changes first appear in
adult organisms were cited by Darwin, such as the reduction or
loss of wings in certain birds or the loss of eyes in cave animals,
owing to disuse. More recent literature is filled with such in-
stances; I need only refer to the opinions of many paleontolo-
gists, whose studies must of necessity be confined largely to
mature organisms, that evolutionary changes take place in these

Fic. 7. DIAGRAMS OF THE SUPPOSED ORIGIN OF VERTEBRATES FROM TRILOBITE-LIKB
ANCESTORS, ACCORDING TO GASKELL. Cross sections of the body of (A) Trilobite, (B)
Intermediate form, (C) Vertebrate. The alimentary canal (AL) of the Trilobite be-

comes the neural canal (N) of the vertebrate, while the alimentary canal of the latter
is derived from a groove on the ventral surface of the Trilobite’s body (Ag) which is
folded in to form a tube. The notochord (Nc) is likewise derived from a ventral
groove (Ng) of the Trilobite’s body. H, heart; My, myotome; Np, nephrocoel; Ap, ap-
pendages; At, atrial chamber; Pl, pleuron; F, fat body; Cl, coelom.

VOL. VII.—32.

498 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

organisms by the addition of new “end stages” to those pre-
viously present; or to the views of the older anatomists that in-
verse symmetry, or “situs transversus,” is caused by the trans-
position of developed organs from one side of the body to the
other; or to the various theories as to the origin of vertebrates
from actinians, nemerteans, annelids, arachnids or other inver-
tebrates, by the inversion of the developed bodies of the latter
and the transposition and transformation of certain organs
(Fig. 7). Indeed all persons are by nature Lamarckians, and
for this very reason that attention is focused upon adult organ-
isms which are seen and known of all men rather than upon the
germ cells which are usually unseen and unknown.

In all of these cases modifications of adult organisms were
supposed to have brought about the changes from one species
to another or from one phylum to another. The great problems
of evolution were (1) to determine how these adult changes
were produced and (2) to show how they were carried over or
“transmitted” from one generation to the next. With regard
to the last named problem it was evident that these adult
changes, if they were to be handed on must be impressed in some
way upon the germ cells, since the germ cells form the only liv-
ing connection between successive generations. Consequently
various hypotheses arose, such as were described in the previous
section, to show how adult characters might be “reflected”
back upon the earlier stages of ontogeny or even upon the germ
cells themselves.

(d) Inverted Views of Heredity or the Inheritance of Ac-
quired Characters.—This is what was originally meant by the
phrase “inheritance of acquired characters,’ namely that
changes in adult structures and functions are in some way im-
pressed upon the germ cells so that these identical changes are
thereafter inherited. Darwin was the first to suggest a possible
mechanism for such inheritance of adult characters in his “ Pro-
visional Hypothesis of Pangenesis.” He assumed that every por-
tion, perhaps every cell, of the developed organism gave off
minute living units or ‘‘ gemmules” and that these gemmules
accumulated in the germ cells and in the course of the develop-
ment of these cells the gemmules became active and gave rise to
parts or cells similar to those from which they originally came.
Incredibly complex as such a process must be in normal on-
togeny, it became stil! more complex when the attempt was
made to explain the “inheritance of acquired characters,” for
since ex hypothese such characters can be acquired and reappear
in offspring at any period in ontogeny it was necessary to as-
sume that these gemmules were given off from all the cells at

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 499

every period of life. Apart from positive disproof of the hypo-
thesis which was quickly furnished by Galton, it must have
broken down from its own weight of incredible assumptions and
additional hypotheses.

Since Darwin’s time many attempts have been made to de-
vise a more acceptable hypothesis to explain the mechanism of
the “inheritance of acquired characters.” Many of these are
mere modifications of Darwin’s hypothesis of pangenesis;
others involve the transmission from the body to the germ cells
of other, and usually more mysterious, things than gemmules.
Among these are supposed “impressions,” either nervous,
psychic, or mnemonic, but in every instance these speculations
follow Darwin’s hypothesis in supposing that something pro-
ceeds from every part of the adult organism to the germ cells
and so modifies those cells that in the course of their develop-
ment they reproduce the very stages and changes which the
adult organism first manifested. They are built on the erro-
neous idea that the body makes the germ cells; they represent
the inverted view of development.

These hypotheses are not only pure assumptions, but in the
main they have been invented to explain phenomena which are
themselves pure assumptions. Thirty-five years ago Weismann
boldly challenged the generally accepted doctrine that “‘ acquired
characters” are inherited, and from that day to this probably
not a single case of such inheritance has been demonstrated,
while most of the supposed cases of such inheritance could be
better interpreted in some other way. Those who still believe
in such inheritance are compelled to admit that it occurs very
rarely and exceptionally if at all.

The older ideas of inheritance represented developed char-
acters as being transmitted from one generation to the next;
a son was said to have inherited his father’s nose or his mother’s
eyes as if these developed characters were transmitted un-
changed. But such a view entirely overlooked the facts of de-
velopment; characters are never transmitted but only the
germinal elements or “factors” of characters and characters
develop from these only under the influence of environment, so
that every developed character is due to both inheritance and
environment. The distinction between inherited and acquired
characters is therefore not a logical one, for every developed
character is both inherited and acquired. In its original mean-
ing, therefore, the term “inheritance of acquired characters”
may be dismissed as not only illogical, but as also impossible in
sexual reproduction.

Unfortunately this expression is now used not only in its

500 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

original sense but also with a very different meaning, viz., the
modification of the germplasm through environmental influ-
ences, or more briefly the “inheritance of germinal modifica-
tions.” Indeed the latter is all that is usually meant when the
former expression is used, for few if any persons would now
maintain that developed characters can enter into or impress
themselves upon the germ cells so as to be born again in the next
generation. On the other hand it is quite possible that environ-
mental influences may act upon the germ cells so as to alter

Fic. 8. DIAGRAM TO SHOW THE VARIOUS WAYS IN WHICH ENVIRONMENT MIGHT IN-
FLUENCD THE GERM CELLS. A. Environment modifies the body and the latter, the germ
cells so as to produce identical modifications in the next generation (qa); this is “ in-
heritance of acquired characters.’ B. Environment modifies the germ cells but not
the body. ©. Environment modifies the body but not the germ cells. D. Environment
acts independently upon both body and germ cells. #. Environment acts through
neryous system on different parts of the body which parts in turn modify the germ
cells. F. Environment acts through neryous system upon various parts of the body
and at the same time uapon the germ cells.

their hereditary constitution. Whether this possibility is ever
realized, whether extrinsic conditions may ever modify the
germplasm so as to produce permanent changes in heredity, is
the central problem of evolution.

It is conceivable that the environment may modify the germ
cells in one or more of the methods shown in the accompanying
diagram (Fig. 8). In A the environment is supposed to modify
the body or soma, which in turn modifies the germ cells so that
they produce a body modified like the parental one; this is typi-
cal inheritance of an acquired character, and it probably never
takes place. In B the environment is shown acting directly
upon the germ cells but not upon the body, and in C upon the
body but not upon the germ cells, while in D the environment
acts independently upon body and germ cells. Probably all of

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 501

the conditions shown in B, C and D actually exist but it should
be noted that when germ cells are modified by environment
these modifications are not identical with those of the body nor
do they develop into such modified bodies; in short in these three
cases there is no inheritance of acquired characters. Finally
in E and F are shown two possible ways in which environment
may influence the germ cells through the body; in E the en-
vironment is supposed to act through the nervous system on
various parts of the body, which parts in turn act upon the
germ cells; while in F there is parallel action, through the nervous
system, upon various parts of the body and also upon the germ
cells. There is no satisfactory evidence either for or against
the conditions shown in E and F and it is possible that they as
well as B, C and D may represent actual conditions. Only
against the condition shown in A, that is against the inheritance
of acquired characters in the original sense, is the evidence
conclusive.

While it is undoubtedly true that the egg produces the hen
and other eggs, and that the hen, that is the body or soma, does
not produce the egg, it is equally true that the body of the hen,
which is the environment of the ovarian egg, may modify the
egg just as the external environment may modify the organism
as a whole. But experience shows that such modifications are
usually not inherited, they come and go with changing environ-
ment, they represent indeed the reactions of a relatively stable
organism to an unstable environment. Least of all do these
modifications of the germ or of the developed organism resemble
the changes of the internal or external environment which
called them forth; a hen with an artificially modified ovary or
oviduct or thyroid gland may possibly produce a modified kind
of egg, but there is no more reason for supposing that the chick
into which this egg develops will show the same modification of
ovary, oviduct or thyroid gland than there is for supposing that
a cold climate will produce a race of cold-blooded animals or a
vegetable diet a species of vegetable-like animals,—and this be-
cause the responses of a germ or of a developed organism to its
environment in no way resemble that environment. The dark-
ness of caves does not produce the blindness of the animals that
live in them, much less does it modify their germ cells in such a
particular way that they in turn produce blind animals; it is
possible, though it has never been proven, that environmental
changes may cause changes in the germplasm, but it is ex-
tremely improbable that these changes are of such a sort that
they will lead, after a long process of development, to the pro-
duction of just such adult characters as are adapted to the

502 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

environment which caused the germinal change, Such a view
involves on the part of the germplasm such a foreknowledge of
future events and contingencies as could not logically be ascribed
to deity itself, and which is impossible of scientific formulation
or explanation. If environment ever modifies germplasm it is
safe to say that these modifications neither resemble the en-
vironment nor, except in rare circumstances and by chance, are
they adapted to develop into organisms which will be fitted to
that environment.

Probably germ cells may be modified by the soma within
which they develop as well as by outside conditions, by internal
and also external environment, but there is no justification in
this fact for the claim which is often made that “adult charac-
ters are reflected ” from the soma to the egg or that the environ-
mental modifications of the parents produce identical modifica-
tions in offspring,—no evidence for the opinion that because
“the parents have eaten sour grapes the children’s teeth are set
on edge.” Further consideration of the effects of external and
internal environment on germplasm will be considered in a
later section.

In short, development is progressive and not retrogressive,
the germ cells are descended from germ cells of the preceding
generation and not from the somatic or body cells by which they
are surrounded, and while these somatic cells may influence or
modify the germ cells by chemical products such as enzymes and
hormones and possibly also in other ways, these modifications
are usually temporary and are not inherited, and, contrary to
the old doctrine of ‘“‘inheritance of acquired characters,” they
do not resemble the stimulus which called them forth nor fore-
cast the needs of the future organism into which they will de-
velop. Even when inherited modifications are produced in
germs cells by changes in the external or internal environment
these modifications may not resemble those produced in somatic
cells, and in no instance is there any evidence that modifications
of somatic cells are transmitted from these to the germ cells.

The Lamarckian philosophy, under whatever name it ap-
pears, is based upon a belief in vitalism or preformation; either
the germ foreknows the future needs of the organism by some
mysterious vitalistic power, or it is the miniature of the adult
and reacts to environment in the same way as the adult does.
Neither of these suppositions accords with known facts, and
both are contradictory to the spirit of science, for the one makes
effects determine causes rather than the reverse, while the other
affirms that causes and results are identical. It will always be
one of the marvels of the history of science that whole genera-

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 503

tions of more or less thoughtful men, who were more or less
acquainted with the phenomena of organic development could
have wandered about so long in such a stupid maze.

(e) The Inverted View of Selection.—The inverted view of
development lurks in many theories where it would least be ex-
pected ; not merely in the transmutation of one developed species
into another, and in the inheritance of acquired characters, but
also to a certain extent in selection theories, for in both artificial
and natural selection it is usually assumed that evolution takes
place by the elimination of developed organisms and that indi-
viduals which survive “transmit their characters” to their off-
spring or “ produce germ cells like those from which they came.”
Of course no adult characters are “transmitted” to offspring
and no developed organism “produces” germ cells, but apart
from this criticism of the terms used, which may or may not be
associated with the inverted view of development, all recent
studies of heredity show that not all the different germ cells
of an individual are genetically alike except when that indi-
vidual is absolutely homozygous, a condition which rarely oc-
curs among sexually reproduced organisms, so that the adult
organism selected may or may not contain germ cells which are
like those from which it came. Thus if the hereditary constitu-
tion of the maternal germ cell is represented by ABC and that
of the paternal cell by abc, the offspring would give rise to no
less than eight different types of germ cells, only one of which
would be like the maternal and one like the paternal cell as is
shown in the accompanying diagram:

ABC ABC, aBC, AbC, ABe
abcf abe, Abc, aBc, abC

Pearl has shown that some of the conflicting results as to the in-
fluence of selection in evolution may be attributed to this fact.
Consequently the selection of developed organisms in the hope of
thereby isolating particular germinal types is a blind and im-
perfect process, though it is the only possible method of pro-
cedure, since the hereditary constitution of germ cells can not
be recognized directly. Nevertheless it is necessary here also
to avoid the inverted view of development involved in the as-
sumption that a certain type of adult organism “produces”
germ cells of the same type.

Furthermore the opinion that the principal activity of selec-
tion is in the elimination of developed organisms directly re-
verses the known facts in the case. Elimination is most severe
in germ cells and embryonic stages. Where one adult is elimi-
nated tens of embryos and thousands of germ cells are elimi-

504 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

nated. These matters will be treated more fully in the section
on selection.

(f) The Inverted View of Adaptation.—Akin to these in-
verted views of development which put the adult before the
germ, the effect before the cause, the end before the beginning,
are those views of adaptation which represent needs, advan-
tages and ends as causes of organic fitness. According to these
views there is present in organisms a guiding or perfecting
principle, an “ entelechy,” ‘‘ élan vital ”’ or other unknown cause,
which leads to definite and purposive results, just as human
intelligence does. It is said by certain philosophical biologists
that evolution and adaptation should be looked upon from the
standpoint of man, their highest product, rather than from the
standpoint of the simplest organisms; evolution should be ex-
plained as the result of intelligence and purpose rather than
attempt to explain intelligence and purpose as the effects of
evolution. In short, according to this view, fitness, purpose and
intelligence are causes rather than effects of evolution and
adaptation.

But there is no sufficient evidence that even in human intelli-
gence and purpose the usual rule of cause and effect is reversed,
and there are many evidences that this is not the case. In
human behavior the remembered results of many previous ex-
periences enter as causes into future actions which may thus be
directed to desired ends; human intelligence and purpose have
thus been built up out of sensations, reactions and remembered
experiences. Probably a similar explanation may be given of
the adaptive behavior of many organisms, for if results of pre-
vious experience may be conserved to any extent in protoplasm
then subsequent reactions may be explained as the result of past
experience, the elimination of useless reactions and the per-
sistence of useful ones. And in similar manner all kinds of
adaptations may be explained as the result of the Darwinian
principle of the elimination of the unfit and the survival of the
fit. There is therefore no necessity for assuming that needs,
advantages and ends serve as causes of adaptation. This in-
verted view of cause and effect is as unnecessary as is the in-
verted view of development.

On the other hand certain philosophers and biologists main-
tain that the responses of organisms to stimuli are always
adaptive; Bergson in particular has supported this hypothesis.
That there is considerable evidence in favor of such a view may
seem to be proven by many well-known instances of regulation
and regeneration, by many protective and preservative reactions
which one finds in organisms; just as the soma usually responds
to stimuli in adaptive ways, so it is maintained the germplasm

THE MECHANISM OF EVOLUTION 505

also responds adaptively. However, Darwin and many others
have shown conclusively that somatic responses are not always
adaptive and that those which are such vary greatly in degree
of perfection. That every change in the germplasm is an
adaptive change to the environmental stimulus which called it
forth is a thesis impossible to maintain, as is demonstrated by
all recent work on mutations. Most of these mutations are posi-
tively injurious and do not in any degree make the organism
better adapted to the conditions in which they arose. Further-
more it should be noted that the assumption that germplasm
may respond adaptively to external stimuli really signifies that
the germplasm responds in such a way that the developed organ-
ism to-which it gives rise is better adapted to the environment
and not that the germplasm itself is better adapted; therefore
if such beneficial responses really occurred they would be bene-
ficial only in an anticipatory way and they would be beneficial
to the germplasm only secondarily and very indirectly. This
hypothesis also is based upon the inverted view of development,
namely, that developed organisms create and control the germ-
plasm rather than the reverse. The fact is that there is no evi-
dence that either germplasm or somatoplasm always responds
to the environment in a directly beneficial way. The usual
beneficial character of responses must be explained in some
other manner.

In conclusion, all hypotheses which assume that evolutionary
changes first occur in developed organisms and are then “ im-
pressed” in some manner upon the germ cells neglect entirely
the well-known fact that development is not a reversible process};
aman can not enter a second time into his mother’s womb and
be born again and a developed organism can not again become
an egg. Consequently all such hypotheses not only put the cart
before the horse, but they put the end of the journey before its
beginning. It is now plainly apparent to those who have con-
sidered the problem of evolution most seriously that evolution
must take place by modifications of germ cells or of germplasm
rather than of adult organisms. Consequently all the older
theories of evolution and many of the newer ones which are
based upon that ancient and erroneous idea that the hen pro-
duces the egg and not the egg the hen may be dismissed without
further consideration here. They represent an untenable and
inverted view of organic development, for while it is absolutely
certain that the fertilized egg produces the developed organism
it is equally certain that the latter does not produce the former,
but that every germ cell comes in direct lineage from the germ
cells of the preceding generation.

(To be continued)

506 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

OUR UNIVERSE OF STARS

By Professor ERIC DOOLITTLE
THE FLOWER OBSERVATORY, UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA

HE observer who stands out under the heavens on any
a clear, moonless night will see the light of far distant suns
shining upon him in whatever direction he may turn. If he is
fortunate enough to be so far away from artificial lights, and
in so clear an atmosphere that the background of the sky is
nearly black, the stars that surround him seem almost innumer-
able. He knows that all of these are great suns, many of them
far hotter and brighter than our own sun, and that the nearest
is so far away that its light has spent several years in coming
to him, although light travels with the enormous speed of
186,330 miles a second. It can not be long before there comes
to him some realization of the immensity of the great cloud of
suns in which we are immersed.

Most striking and interesting of all to the naked eye is the
Milky Way, that

Broad and ample road whose dust is gold,

so very bright and narrow in Cassiopeia, but much wider in
Cygnus, where begins that most remarkable feature known as
the Great Bifurcation. Here the Milky Way branches into two
parts. The western branch is the brighter until Aquila is
reached, where it diverges still farther to the west, and comes
almost completely to an end in Ophiuchus, to begin again in
Scorpius. The eastern branch meanwhile grows narrower and
remains bright, until it passes below the ground in the south.
Between Aquila and the horizon is the most irregular region of
the entire structure. Here suns are heaped together into great
clouds which alternate with faint, or almost absolutely vacant,
spaces.

When a great telescope is turned in any direction, the field
of view is filled with stars, which become more densely packed
together as the Milky Way is approached; indeed there are
parts of this which can not be resolved into separate stars, even
with the most powerful optical aid. And when a delicate photo-
graphic plate is exposed for many hours to any part of the
heavens, the images of continually fainter and fainter stars
appear upon it, until a record is secured of objects far too faint
to be seen in any telescope. There are also revealed innumer-

OUR UNIVERSE OF STARS 507

able additional star-clouds and star-clusters, double and variable
stars, and, in short, all of the objects the study of which makes
up modern sidereal astronomy.

Evidently, the star cloud which surrounds us is of almost
infinite complexity. It is no wonder that Sir William Herschel,
its first explorer, became wholly absorbed in his work, and that
his devoted sister, Caroline, sat, night after night, recording his
observations until her feet were frozen to the ground. Not
only did Herschel describe and catalogue for the first time thou-
sands of double stars, nebulas, and other objects, but he sought
to get some approximation to the form of the cloud of suns of
which we are a part. This he did by counting vast numbers of
stars seen in different directions and assuming that the rela-
tive distances of the stars could be found from their compara-
tive brightness; that the fainter stars, on the whole, appeared
faint only on account of their great distances from us. Thus
he reached the conclusion that our universe has roughly the
form of a grindstone, the greatest dimension lying in the direc-
tion of the Milky Way, and our sun being near the center.

But unfortunately, this assumption of Herschel with regard
to the fainter stars can only very roughly be said to be true.
We now know that the faint and bright stars are inextricably
mixed in our star cloud; some of the nearest stars of the heavens
are very faint and some of the brightest are so far away that
their distances can not be directly measured. In addition to
this, the surprising fact appears that the distribution of the
stars depends to a large extent upon their comparative develop-
ment. Those but little advanced from a nebulous stage con-
gregate strongly in the direction of the Milky Way; those which
have proceeded farther in their development surround us in a
much less flattened cloud. .

Taken as a whole, we now know that our Milky Way cloud
of stars, though inconceivably vast, is far from being of infinite
extent. It is also of a much more complex structure than de-
scribed by Herschel. The stars of our visible universe are ar-
ranged in a flattened, lens-shaped form, the least distance
through which is perhaps 2,000 light years, and of which the
greatest diameter, extending in the direction of the Milky Way,
is possibly four times as great. Toa distance of about 300 light
years in every direction, the distribution of the stars is nearly
uniform. Beyond this the numbers rapidly fall off, until at a
distance of 1,000 light years in the direction of the Poles of the
Milky Way, the density is diminished to perhaps one fifth of
that at the center. Around the edge of the great disc are the
irregular clouds of the Milky Way, the inner edge of the nearest
of which is perhaps 4,000 light years from us. Some astrono-

508 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mers believe that there is an almost vacant space between the
stars of our inner, flattened cloud and the complicated structure
which surrounds it.

The individual suns which make up this complex cloud were,
until very recently, believed to be moving indifferently in every
direction, and in regard to a majority of them this is still be-
lieved to be true. But the surprising discovery was recently
made that many of the stars belong to two great streams mov-
ing in both directions along a line which lies in the place of
the Milky Way. There are thus two streams, the stars of which
move in exactly opposite directions; one stream is not in front
of the other, but they inter-penetrate one another in all parts
of the heavens.

We can not yet definitely account for this great streaming
of the stars. Dr. H. H. Turner has suggested that it may be
explained by supposing that the stars of our universe move in
very large but narrow orbits about the gravitational center of
our cloud and that we view them going and returning from that
center, from which our own sun is at a considerable distance.
The strongest objection to this theory is that it requires too
strong a congestion of stars near the center. While it is pos-
sible to suppose that one of the dense patches of stars in the
Milky Way is the actually congested center of our stellar system,
until much more data have been accumulated it will not be pos-
sible to come to any decision in regard to the theory.

All that has been said thus far is based on a study of the
bright objects of our universe, those which can be seen in the
telescope or which appear after a long exposure on a delicate
photographic plate. But is all, or even a large proportion, of
the matter in our universe gathered into self-luminous bodies?
May there not be vast quantities which, like the meteorites and
shooting stars which continually fall on our earth, are dark and
so invisible to us? And may not the whole cloud be filled with
a cosmic dust whose mass may far exceed the combined masses
of all the brighter stars? If so, the gravitational pull of this
diffused matter becomes of dominant importance in any inquiry
into the future development of our system.

Fortunately, if the space within our star cloud is filled with
finely divided matter, not only will the light from far distant
suns be rendered fainter, but it will also be reddened in color.
The reddening effect of a fine dust was very noticeable 36 years
ago, when all of the air about the earth was filled with dust
from an eruption of the great volcano, Krakatoa. This was a
time of intensely red sunrises and sunsets which persisted for
more than a year until, after the slow settling down of the dust
particles, the air was again comparatively clean.

OUR UNIVERSE OF STARS 509

Thus, if finely divided matter exists in inter-stellar space,
the more distant stars will be distinctly reddened. If a large
number of stars known, or believed to be, very distant are ar-
ranged in a series according to their color, there will be a larger
proportion of red stars than there are among those in the vicin-
ity of our sun. Moreover, very blue stars will not be seen.

Studies based on this change of color have been carefully
made by several observers, but the observations are very diffi-
cult and the results are discordant; the largest of the modern
results is nearly three times the smallest. An average of the
three best determinations indicated, however, that there is the
equivalent of about 50,000 hydrogen molecules in each cubic
centimeter of space. This is, of course, very far beyond the
most perfect vacuum which we can attain artificially, and it
would probably have no appreciable effect on the motion of
the planets, but in a study of the development of our universe
its effect becomes very important. For the total mass of this
material would be no less than 150,000 times the estimated mass
of all the stars in any large region of space.

An apparently more reasonable conclusion was reached
three years ago by Dr. Harlow Shapley, of the Mount Wilson
Solar Observatory, from a study of the bright cluster of stars
in Hercules, and several other spherical clusters. This is the
brightest star cluster visible to northern observers; it is almost
overhead in the early evenings of July, and indeed is in excel-
lent position for observation throughout the summer. In this
wonderful aggregation of suns, more than 50,000 separate stars
have been counted, down to the twenty-first magnitude, and the
whole number must be vastly greater than this. The Hercules
cluster is very remote from us; its distance is so great that the
light of its stars occupies some 30,000 years in coming to us.
Thus, it is wholly beyond the borders of our Milky Way universe.

Now when the stars of this very distant cluster are exam-
ined in regard to their color it is found that their distribution is
almost indistinguishable from that of the stars which are near
our sun. So little is this alteration that it is found to corre-
spond to an extinction of but one per cent. of the intensity of a
ray of light in travelling through space for 3,000 years.

From thirteen clusters examined in this way, Dr. Shapley
has obtained practically identical results. As these objects lie
in all different directions from us, the transparency of space is
thus tested in these many directions. In each of them the
amount of cosmic dust is found to be so small as to be almost
negligible.

Inter-stellar space is, so far as cosmic dust goes, very clean.
But there may be dark stars and dark nebulas in our star cloud

510 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

whose only effect is to cut off the light of whatever is beyond
them. Of this nature, probably, are some of the dark spaces
in the Milky Way, recently photographed and discussed by Dr.
E. E. Barnard. No one can doubt that in some of these beauti-
ful photographs we see the distant clouds of stars partially
hidden by dark matter in front of them. But this opaque mat-
ter is very local. In general, there is no evidence of any dark
material between us and the distant stars. We are therefore
justified in estimating its total amount as but small compared
with the whole mass of the stars.

If we therefore suppose that there is not an excessive
amount of dark matter in our universe, we may proceed to in-
quire how the form of our star cloud will change under the
action of the bright bodies which compose it. And it may be
remarked that even if we assume the mass of dark matter as
equal to, or even greater, than that of matter visible to us, the
general character of our conclusions will not be altered.

But at the very outset we must decide between two wholly
different modes of investigation. Until very recently it was
believed that the stars can be compared to the molecules of a
gas and that the laws applied in the theory of gases can be
equally applied to our cloud of stars. These laws depend very
largely upon the incessant collision and rebound of the gaseous
molecules, by which the energy of motion is communicated from
one to the other. Do the stars pass close to one another fre-
quently enough (for actual collision is not necessary here), to
make the kinetic theory of gases applicable, or are their close
approaches relatively so infrequent that the gravitational pull
of all of the stars of the cloud is all that need be considered ?

Some light is thrown on this question by the quite recent
discovery of several clusters of stars, ploughing directly
through the cloud of stars which surrounds us. Perhaps the
best known of these, and the one which has been most fully in-
vestigated, is the moving cluster in Taurus. This is a group of
41 bright stars, scattered over the whole western half of the
constellation, though mostly concentrated about the Hyades, a
study of whose motions shows that they are moving together
through our star cloud. They are all moving in perfectly
parallel lines with a speed of 28 miles a second. They, in fact,
make up a globular star cluster, about 35 light years in diam-
eter; this passed nearest us about 800,000 years ago; when
viewed from the earth at this time the individual stars seemed
even more scattered than at present. In 65,000,000 years the
group will appear as a little round cluster of faint stars, five
eighths the diameter of the full moon.

As we know the distance away of this cluster, it is easy to

OUR UNIVERSE OF STARS 511

find the absolute brightness of each of its stars. It is interest-
ing to note that they are all far more luminous than our sun,
the brightest ones exceeding the brightness of our sun by nearly
100 times. In the neighborhood of our sun we have nothing to
compare with this brilliant assemblage of stars. Perhaps there
are many fainter stars within the borders of the cluster, and
belonging to it, but the motions of the fainter stars have not yet
been so studied as to enable us to decide this point.

A second, very celebrated, cluster is known as the Ursa
Major system because all of the stars of the Great Dipper are
known to belong to it except the two extreme ones. It also in-
cludes the brightest star of the delicate little constellation of
the Northern Crown and the very brilliant Dog Star, Sirius.
This is a very flattened, disc-shaped cluster with an extreme
diameter of about 110 light years; its thickness is only 8 light
years. This cluster is moving somewhat more slowly than the
cluster in Taurus, its speed being but 18 miles a second. All of
its stars are far brighter than the sun. :

Several other moving clusters are known. For our pur-
poses, the striking fact to be noticed in connection with them is
that though each one moves through the star cloud so that in-
numerable stars, distinct from the cluster, must be enveloped
by it and afterward left behind as the swarm moves on, yet the
stars of the cluster continue to move with an unchanged velocity
and in parailel lines. It appears that even in these exceptional
cases the chance near approach of two stars is a very unusual
occurrence.

It is true that M. C. V. L. Charlier and other astronomers,
who believe that the effects of near approaches should be taken
into account, suppose that the stars remaining in the cluster are
an insignificant remnant of a far greater swarm, most of whose
members have been deflected by the stars of our cloud, and so
driven away. But if this is so, it seems improbable that those
which remain should have absolutely parallel and common mo-
tions. It seems more reasonable to suppose that from an orig-
inal great swarm there should ensue all imaginable deflections
from parallelism, from the slightest to those so great that the
corresponding members have been driven out of the system
altogether.

When, therefore, we consider the phenomena of moving
clusters, and think too of the great distances which separate the
stars, the evidence seems conclusive that the effects of occa-
sional collisions may be altogether neglected. We need only
consider the effects of the general gravitational attraction of
the whole cloud of stars, and the kinetic theory of gases may be
discarded in this connection.

512 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

But even with this restriction the problem is a very difficult
one, calling for a development of the science of dynamics beyond
any as yet available. However, certain general conclusions can
be reached, even if the details can not be as yet filled in.

Whether we consider the kinetic theory of gases as appli-
cable, or not, it appears that our universe is far from a form in
which equilibrium can exist. It is in a state of rapid collapse.
It may, under the gravitational pull of each of its suns, reach a
condition of approximate equilibrium in 1,000,000,000 years.
For an almost complete equilibrium, a duration 1,000 times as
long is required. And under the kinetic theory, the times are
about 100,000 times as great as these. At the expiration of
these inconceivably great times, our cloud will probably be
found of an approximately spherical form.

An interesting question here arises as to whether each star
of our cloud will not have gone through its life long before these
changes shall be consummated. Whether each of the bright
stars will not have become cold and dark, ages upon ages before
that remote time, and whether, if there are then any bright
bodies in the universe, they will not be new stars, different from
those we see now. For, according to the classic theory of Helm-
holtz, the life of a sun is a comparatively short one. This theory
assumes that all of the heat radiated by a sun into space is
caused by the slow contraction of the radiating body; every por-
tion of the mass in thus falling toward the center loses its
energy of position, which is transformed into heat energy and
radiated away. It is a very simple matter to compute the past
and future duration of our sun, for example, supposing that all
of its heat is due to this source and that its radiation has re-
mained sensibly constant. It is found that it could not have
given off heat at its present rate for more than about 30,000,000
years, and that in 7,000,000 years from now it will have shrunk
to one half its present radius; its increasing density will then
probably cause its shrinking to be very much slower, and its
heat and light will also begin to rapidly decrease.

But from geological considerations a much longer time is
wanted. From a physical discussion alone, Sir George Darwin
considered that “500 to 1,000 millions of years may have
elapsed since the birth of the moon,” and Dr. John Perry states
that “if the paleontologists have good reasons for demanding
greater times, I see nothing from the physicist’s point of view
which denies them four times the greatest of these estimates.”
And the paleontologists ask for a very long time to reasonably
account for the grand upward development of life upon our
earth. For many years it has been indeed evident that the con-
traction theory of Helmholtz is inadequate. Not that the con-

OUR UNIVERSE OF STARS 513

traction of the sun is not a true source of heat, and this cause
must be ever in operation, but a greater source of energy must
be looked for. And this, it is now thought, may be found in
the atom.

During the past two decades, modern physicists have gotten
very far away from the “small, round, smooth atoms” of
Democritus. We know now that the atom is a very complex
thing. With so-called radio-active substances it may be broken
up, with the liberation of an immense amount of energy, the
newer elements which result from the process having lower
atomic weights than the original substance. Whether an appre-
ciable amount of the heat and other energy emitted by the sun
is of this sub-atomic origin, we do not know, but it seems not
unreasonable to suppose that it is. For we can not even ap-
proximate to conditions as they must be found within the solar
globe. It is true that the average temperature of the outside
surface of the sun probably does not far exceed 12,000° Fahren-
heit, but how very much hotter it is in the interior we have no
means of knowing. The pressures, too, within the ball of the
sun, are enormous. A very simple computation shows that at
the depth of only 1,000 miles below the surface the pressure is
nearly 6,000,000 tons on each square foot, an amount, of course,
which we are wholly unable even to approach in our labora-
tories. It seems very probable that when subjected to these
inconceivably great temperatures and pressures, atoms may be
broken up, and a part, at least, of their sub-atomic energy may
be liberated. And it is only necessary to suppose that a part of
the energy of the atom is in this way radiated into space in
order that the life of a sun, or star, may be almost indefinitely
prolonged.

A rough image of the form which our stellar universe will
take in the very remote ages of the future is furnished by those
beautiful objects, the spherical, or globular, clusters of stars.
The remarkable work of Shapley has shown that these are on
the borders or wholly beyond the limits of our star cloud. They
are isolated in space, and from probably irregular clouds have
slowly taken the spherical form under the mutual pull of all of
their stars. They are much smaller than our universe; the dis-
tance through them is measured in hundreds, instead of in tens
of thousands of light years; they have therefore gone through
their development much more rapidly. But it is very probable
that our own far greater system will take approximately this
same form, after a time so long that all times hitherto consid-
ered in astronomy shrink almost to nothing in comparison.

VOL. vu1.—33.

514 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH

By Professor R. D. CARMICHAEL

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

HE men of no other country have exhibited so great a
measure of individuality in research as those of England.
In the highest degree they have manifested the self-reliant
strength of natural genius. Among them scientific endeavor
has not been organized; and for the most part investigations
have been carried out by single workers in isolation. British
science has always refrained from congregating in distinct
schools and institutions; it has never been localized in definite
centers. No compact body of pupils there develops the work
and ideas of any master. Thinkers proceed singly and indi-
vidually with their self-appointed tasks laboring in close touch
with nature and according to their particular inclinations.

These peculiarities of British science have always been in
evidence from the earliest times through the central achieve-
ments of Newton and down to our own day. In illustration of
the way of work of a scientist in England let us consider the
contributions of Faraday, through whose labors the theory of
electricity has been revolutionized. Guided by his own experi-
mental researches, which resulted in the knowledge of many
new facts and opened up problems of far-reaching importance,
he developed his own mental construct or individual way of
representing the phenomena to his thought which was so far
different from that employed by others that only a few in a
generation were able to follow him in the course of his reason-
ing. He pictured space in the neighborhood of an electric
charge as filled with lines of electric force and through these
lines found a means of penetrating to a deeper understanding of
electric phenomena than any of his predecessors or contem-
poraries. By aid of an active imagination he was able to ascer-
tain the nature of the interactions among electric charges, rep-
resenting these to himself by means of geometric relations
among his innumerable curved lines of force.

For a time it seemed to most interested persons that his
processes were too loose to permit of confidence in his conclu-
sions; though all admitted that they had led him into the most
interesting and remarkable experimental researches. After the

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH 515

matter had lain for a time in this state in which the theoretical
explanations had so large an element of individual bias in them
that they could not be understood by most investigators, the
entire theory was taken up anew by Maxwell in the light of
Faraday’s speculative discussions and reduced to a new mathe-
matical form. In this way it finally became clear that Fara-
day’s original conceptions had in them all the clarity of mathe-
matical precision.

But it was the next generation after Faraday which first
understood properly the range of his ideas. So is it likely to be
ever with thinkers of the most marked individuality; so has it
been preeminently among British scientists. As another ex-
ample witness the case of Newton, whose work was first thor-
oughly appreciated by the following generation and in another
country than his own.

In this respect the English are in most pronounced opposi-
tion to the Germans, while in some ways the French occupy the
intermediate ground between them. Of these three countries
which have led in scientific development it seems to be the im-
partial verdict of history that we owe to France the largest
number of works perfect in form and substance and classical
for all time; that the greatest bulk of scientific work, at least
in more recent years, has been produced in Germany; but that
the new ideas which have fructified science, in earlier times and
also in the nineteenth century, have arisen more frequently in
England than in any other country. In the second half of the
nineteenth century the three leading ideas of science were prob-
ably the law of conservation of energy, Darwin’s theory of de-
scent, and Faraday’s conception of electrical phenomena par-
ticularly in the more generally intelligible form which Maxwell
gave to it. The latter two of these arose definitely in England;
and the work of Joule on heat went a long way toward the fuller
announcement of the first by Helmholtz. All three of them have
been worked out with the definite cooperation of scientific in-
vestigators in all countries.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century the spirit of ex-
act science, so far as it belonged to any large portion of the edu-
cated population, was domiciled in Paris. In such an atmos-
phere scientific writings took on the form of elegant literary
productions. From Paris the spirit of interest spread into all
countries and leavened the thought and literature of the whole
world. In the country of its origin this elegant literature has
maintained the traditions of its early development. In England
it has been modified by the spirit which magnifies the individu-

516 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ality of each thinker. In Germany it has taken the direction
indicated by the great organization of thought there. Most
German investigators stand under the guidance of a few lead-
ing minds. Their contributions to thought fall, therefore, into
a few important schools in which all their researches may be
ordered.

To this general statement there is one marked exception.
At least one of the great intellects of Germany worked in isola-
tion very much like that which forms the rule in England; and
it is worthy of note that he is without question the greatest man
in his field produced in Germany and in every respect one of
the foremost men of thought in the world. I refer to Gauss, the
self-taught mathematician, a thinker whose work was not well
understood and appreciated by his contemporaries. But the one
notable exception leaves intact the general rule that the spirit
of investigation in Germany has generally manifested itself in
the labors of organized bodies of researchers.

The observation of such definite national differences, par-
ticularly that between England and Germany, brings forcibly to
our attention the question as to the outward circumstances un-
der which scientific investigation will flourish best, especially
for extensive periods of time or in the long run. The two kinds
of activity, that in which the workers are joined together in
more or less compact bodies each of which is engaged in de-
veloping one general class of ideas and that in which the indi-
vidual researchers labor in isolation pursuing separately their
several inclinations, presumably have their characteristic ad-
vantages and defects. To know what these are is a matter of
importance both to the nation and to the individual investigator.

Let us suppose that a particular science is in the situation
of having its main general ideas already at hand and that it is
confronted with their detailed development as the work next to
be considered. It is clear that this is a situation in which or-
ganization of effort is going to count for efficiency. It is then
relatively easy for a man of initiative to direct the researches of
several less gifted collaborators. A number of investigators
thus working together in unity instead of isolation afford much
assistance and stimulation to each other and accomplish in a
short time what otherwise would require a much longer period.

In a condition of this sort German science in recent years
has been far more efficient than that of any other country,
while of the four or five leading nations England has probably
profited least by organization of effort. In British science
generally we are struck by two things: the individual greatness

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH 517

of certain separate investigators, and the meager results
achieved by all others. But in Germany we see everywhere the
detailed development of particular theories and the accumula-
tion of large masses of published results, greater in body than
that produced in any other country, while in France and Italy
and America we find a state of things intermediate between the
extremes represented by Germany and England.

Organization of effort has advantages aptly illustrated by
the achievements of German science. But there is at least a
reasonable question whether it may not also have its draw-
backs, whether there is not a measure or type of organization
that hinders individuality and inhibits original ideas or points
of view.

To some thinkers it has seemed that rare combinations of
insight and perseverance and the skill to penetrate to the heart
of nature are more likely to spring up among a people opposed
to highly developed systems of thought and organizations of
effort and given much to emphasizing the individual and his
separate achievements. Such an idea seems to be borne out by
the continued fruitfulness of England through many genera-
tions in the production of fundamental and guiding ideas in the
development of science, particularly since she has in this respect
apparently surpassed every other country.

Discoveries in England emanate most frequently from the
depth of original genius in intimate communion with nature.
Such a thinker is far enough separated from others to allow
nature to work out her own impression upon him, so to speak,
with less interference from the inertia due to fixed habits of
thought and the preconceptions of contemporary science.
There is no large university system in England eager to nurse
and develop new talent and engulf all its energy into the
common whirlpool; and English thinkers, therefore, in greater
proportion than those of other countries, live in intimate com-
munion with nature. They are thus the most likely of all to
develop the new idea of fundamental importance.

Openness and plasticity of mind, even to age, is a general
characteristic of men of genius. A desire for truth is their
fundamental possession and they are not deterred from its
pursuit by petty inconsistencies. Socrates was delighted when
confuting others; and, if found in error, was no less pleased
when confuted. In his mind no evil was so great as a false
judgment concerning the just and the unjust.

Radical changes of opinion have not infrequently taken
place in the gifted man late in life. At forty-seven years of

518 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

age Dryden in 1678 produced “ All for Love,” writing the play
for himself rather than for the public and basing it on a new
dramatic theory which he had evolved during an interval of
rest from writing. Cayley turned to the study of law at
twenty-five and after entering upon its practice changed his
field of activity to become one of the great mathematicians.
Not till the age of forty-nine did Cowper find out that he could
write, and then for a time produced volume after volume which
his readers have learned to dwell on with affectionate ap-
preciation.

In genius there is nothing static. In every aspect it is
dynamic. Thought is not fixed; it is in constant ebb and flow.
Everything is afloat and no conservatism is safe. The talk of
a man true to his individuality tears from its moorings all
thought among his associates. However well things may have
been set up before he speaks, they need to be set up again
afterwards.

Truth-bearing ships may not rest at anchor where a genius
is present; they must go forth upon voyages to the outermost
bounds of thought. Inoculated with the ferment of his mind,
they will deliver new and powerful knowledge in the remote
regions, kindling everywhere a fresh illumination of beauty.
In their moving hither and thither will be much profit of
valuable exchange. The bread of life shall they bear to the
needy, and return the wine of new truth to the out-sender.

In a few individual cases genius has seemed to be almost
universal. Aristotle was learned in all the lore of his time
and made fundamental contributions to thought in many direc-
tions. Poincaré was a leading investigator in every division
of mathematics at a time when the subject was generally
esteemed so vast and diverse in its parts that no man could be
properly acquainted with all of its essential developments.

At the opposite extreme there have been men of high
achievement in a narrow channel of activity whose work was
magnificent in its proper region, but out of it was stupid. With
the heroic meter Pope was a dexterous genius, but outside of
his habitual forms he was helpless and indeed even insensible
of his incapacity.

Among men of research this is the day of narrow special-
ization. Numerous workers achieve notable advancement in a
narrow field and yet are not broad enough in view to estimate
properly the bearings of their own results. They can do a
work of value only because a greater mind has dealt with the
whole problem and has made apparent the need of development

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH 519

in certain phases. Research will never be able to dispense with
the man of wide outlook who must do the fundamental work
in the advancement of knowledge.

In the earlier days much of the activity of genius was de-
manded for war and government. The Roman temple of Janus,
which was open during war and closed during peace, was shut
only four times before the Christian era. But war with occa-
sional peace among the ancients has given place among the
moderns to peace with occasional war. For a generation prior
to the Great War in Europe the activity of genius had been
largely liberated for use in science. Coincident with this
liberation was the most wonderful development of knowledge
yet witnessed in the world. Man obtained a greatly increased
control over nature and her forces; and the rapidity with
which he extended his conquests far exceeded the highest ex-
pectations. Let society release anew her men of genius to
pursue undisturbed each the matter of his own delights; and
they will soon come again bearing the booty of peace and the
rewards of thought, enriching life with enduring conquests
of surprising grandeur.

Only one other period in the history of the world can be
compared in its enormous advances in thought with the period
of the present, namely, the age of Pericles in ancient Greece.
The earlier period was characterized by the astonishing con-
centration of the wonderful development in the single city of
Athens; the later period by the widespread advances in both
Europe and America, depending on a collaboration of effort
and unity of interest not before manifested in the history of
thought. But these two developments, widely separated as
they are in time and springing up under different world condi-
tions, have this common element that they arose during a
period of peace when genius was released from the concerns of
war and was free to pursue its own more congenial interests.

Within the last one hundred years scientific research has
opened up ‘many new types of problems. It has found out how
to reach with observation and measurement large classes of
phenomena more intricate than any which were witnessed or
even suspected in earlier times. It has sought by new methods
the more hidden forces and conditions which make up and
govern our everyday life. It can hardly be supposed that the
science of one or two generations has found the best interpreta-
tion or explanation of all these facts, especially since relatively
so few persons have been able to live in intimate daily com-

520 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

munion with these novel and till recently hidden aspects of
nature.
It seems therefore that this is an age which, while not
neglecting the development of detailed results, is peculiarly one
that should look with favor upon deep individuality and the
consecration of the man possessing it to a life of intimate and
daily communion with phenomena—a communion in which, as
far as possible, he shall let nature speak her own language to
him in her simplicity and unimpeded by the foreign accent and
construction of our scientific jargon. It appears that in this
way one has the best expectation of coming to a new and more
penetrating vision.

In order that our research into nature shall be most effec-
tive in the long run it seems therefore to be a matter of the
highest concern to keep unimpaired the deep individuality of
those who live much alone with the intricate phenomena of the
new nature revealed to us by contemporary observation. The
continual presence of such spirits upon the planet affords the
highest blessing which it can receive.

This interaction of individuality and organization presents
a threefold aspect, appearing in its relation to the whole world
of thought, to the activity of a single nation, and to the plans
and purposes of the individual. Perhaps the problem for the
world at large is best solved by that partial national division
of labor which has existed heretofore and which is exhibited in
a most marked manner by the contrasts of German and English
scientific work. To the individual, particularly to the young
researcher just finding himself and his most suitable field of
interest, the problem appears in a somewhat different light.

For him the question often presents itself in this way: In
a range of ideas already marked by the individuality of another
and being worked out in detail from a well-defined point of
view he sees a number of problems which interest him and into
the solution of which he could go with zest and enthusiasm;
but he sees that, for the present at least, this would be to
merge his individuality in that of his predecessor. On the other
hand, he may see or may desire to seek less well-defined fields
of investigation which are awaiting the impress of a new in-
dividuality to bring to life their dormant possibilities. Into
one of these he may enter and reduce to order, slowly at first
and more rapidly afterwards, the chaos which he finds there.
The first procedure will usually bring him into earlier notice;
for among those ideas which are well-defined and those problems
which are clearly set he will the more readily penetrate beyond

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH 521

the boundaries of present knowledge. But if he starts in the
latter direction, though he may move things less promptly he
will push them much further if he succeeds at all in getting
them effectively into motion.

The more a domain demands originality for its explora-
tion, the fewer are those individuals whose courage and per-
sistence will enable them to penetrate it. It is better for a
man to do the smaller work well than to fail entirely at the
larger; but it is a more profound tragedy if the man of higher
' force does not find himself and therefore never applies himself
to the greater problems which he might solve.

Thus the young researcher is confronted with a situation
potent in its influence upon his life and the value to mankind
of his labors; and between the two possibilities he must choose,
either consciously and with foresight or unconsciously under
the force of circumstances. Let him remember that the choice
is to be made in the light of the character of service which his
life devotion to constructive thought is to render in the progress
of mankind.

The work of highest value can be done only as an expres-
sion of the most marked individuality. Let the beginner keep
this ever before him as a fundamental principle. If his achieve-
ment is to have any first-rate qualities it must be through his
allowing nature to write herself into his thought unimpeded by
preconception, however hidden. The Universe honors nothing
so much as the man who stands on his feet without the prop of
contemporary or predecessor ; and to no one else are her secrets
so readily revealed. Every young researcher must choose for
himself whether he shall stand in the place to receive this
greater illumination or enter upon the less inspiring labor of
developing already existent ideas.

The man of highest genius respects his work and does it
nobly not only because it is of great value to mankind but
also for a reason more important to him individually, namely,
that it is an expression of himself and a means of developing
him into that which he should become. He does not compare it
with that of others as to value. It is a thing to stand alone
and be judged of itself. With him is no concern for greater
or less of genuine achievement. A realization of the best that
is in him is all that he can accomplish; and he is unwilling to
do what is less or different. The past and the distant, the
near and the contemporary, delight him as commentaries on
his own experience; but for himself he seeks primarily the
noblest self-expression, whether in the production of art or in

522 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the creation of scientific truth. When a country does not find
its ideals at home but draws them from abroad, it builds noth-
ing worthy of admiration or study. When an institution, as
of learning, looks elsewhere for its inspiration and not to its
own men and environment, it is dead and can not lead or inspire
in the way of knowledge. When an individual draws his
problem from another individual he has already made himself
of second rate or lower in research. But when a man takes
up a problem that appeals to him or an institution plans a work
which grows out of its place in its environment or a country
according to its circumstances builds up what interests its own
people, each does a work of fundamental import and becomes a
source of instruction and inspiration to mankind.

The greatest need of every generation in science is the man
who knows current theories and tendencies and yet thinks
from a center of his own, the course of whose activity is spon-
taneous and free as the flow of a rivulet, adjusting itself with
as little effort to the inhibiting bounds of his environment. He
is the perennial fountain of life and power. Primarily he is
concerned not with the impressions which things make on the
minds of other men, but with what they make on his own. He
gives place to the opinions of others only as a sort of com-
mentary on his own thought, as the scholar’s annotations are
intended to elucidate the meaning of the master in the text.
His business is not to declaim on the beauties which others have
attained to, but to find a new and deeper beauty underlying
them, to come a little nearer to the marvelous processes of
nature.

Every one transfers something of himself into his percep-
tion of the matter. If he should give an accurate account even
of his most unbiased observation he would not say, It was
so and so; but, rather, Thus it appeared to me. However fully
preconceptions and prejudices are laid aside, there is one thing
unrelated to the event which the observer can not put away,
namely, the observer himself. If one is sincere and thinks
from a center of his own, everything will take somewhat the
color of the beholding eye, just as the world appears red when
seen through red glasses.

It is impossible for one to come to the study of any class
of phenomena or range of ideas without bringing his past
experience and the inertia of his previous way of looking at
things. Even natural science has found no way to avoid this.
At best one can only reduce to a minimum the influence of
prejudice and the inertia of preconception.

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH 523

This obtrusion of the individual into every result of ob-
servation and thought has the most intimate connection with
the meaning which should be attached to scientific truth and
research. The characteristics of human thought and human
sense impressions determine science quite as much as the
external phenomena which are being studied. We possess a
small number of special senses quite limited in the range of
quality of impressions which they can give to us. Any par-
ticular one of these special sense organs, whatever the source
of the stimulus, gives to us the same quality of sensation.
Through the optic nerve, for instance, however it may be
excited, we receive only sensations of light. Now it can hardly
be supposed that nature possesses just a few qualities and those
alone which we are able to perceive. Moreover, we know defi-
nitely that a single sense can not distinguish in many cases
between phenomena of the most diverse kinds. Is it not then
reasonable to conceive the possibility that phenomena in gen-
eral exhibit many aspects, intrinsically very different, which
we are not in the least able to distinguish even with the use of
all our special senses? If this be true our science must in the
end be very remote from the actually existent phenomena which
we seek to explain. In other words, all our scientific hy-
potheses must be shot through in all directions by the peculiar-
ities of the mental constitution of those who build up this
science. Thus the latter is deeply colored not merely by in-
dividual, but by racial characteristics.

In all this is no cause for regret. We build our science for
its value to us in ways both utilitarian and esthetic. For this
it is quite sufficient for us to ascertain merely the invariant and
permanent elements of the impressions made by phenomena
upon the total human organism. Our progress will be greatest
when we come in our explanations as closely as possible to the
way in which the new phenomena would impress one who suf-
fered least from the inertia of preconception. In other words,
our progress will be most fundamental, other things being
equal, when many individual researchers are moved primarily
by that interest which springs from deep individuality. In this
way we will have most consistent attention to the problems
which lie closest to hand.

To consider first and primarily the problem nearest to hand
is a concern not merely of the individual. In our country, par-
ticularly, scientific investigation carried on largely by groups
of men connected with the institutions as such should develop in
some measure the matters which are suggested naturally by

524 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

their relations to the varying bodies of supporters. In like man-
ner the country as a whole should find some problems of central
importance pertaining to the national life and thought in a way
not in evidence elsewhere.

In the state university particularly we should find a zeal for
research pertaining directly to the interests of the common-
wealth supporting it. This should not take a too narrow form
and would lose ultimately if it did; but it might well be adapted
in a broad way to the demands of local interest.

This, however, could not affect all departments of thought;
for some are essentially universal and non-local in character.
Moreover, it should not be allowed to dominate all elements of
thought in any department. This would be a narrowness fatal
to the best interests. But in every department of most institu-
tions (if not all) it is probably desirable to bring about the de-
velopment of a local atmosphere, so to speak, favorable to con-
centrated effort along certain lines, but of course not antagon-
istic to any general trend of progress. No department in any
one university can well represent every phase of the develop-
ment of its subject; but it can represent a proper variety and
at the same time a certain measure of continuity and deep rela-
tion of the particular fields primarily developed by it. In some
cases at present our institutions are losing by too much sepa-
rateness of effort in a particular environment, sometimes going
so far that creative men in the same department are unable to
understand the character of work produced by each other. It
seems that such a situation as this should exist only in very
rare cases, if at all. A greater solidarity of effort would doubt-
less further both the ends for which the department exists,
namely, the creation of truth and the dissemination of truth.

The greatest example in history of a nation which set itself
to work on the problems arising spontaneously out of its own
interest is afforded by the city-state of Athens in the fifth cen-
tury before Christ. Here, to begin with, the people built up a
form of government which did not copy the laws of any neigh-
bor. They thought things out for themselves from their own
point of view and were most pleased perhaps when their specu-
lations resulted in conclusions contrary to those previously
reached. There was a marvelous openness to new truth.
Strangers might come into the city at will, teaching whatever
doctrine they would and carrying away with them the new truth
gathered from the thinkers of the city. The Greek was calcu-
lating in preparation, daring in deed, and untrammeled by pre-
conception when his logic led him to new or strange conclusions.

INDIVIDUALITY IN RESEARCH 525

Through Pericles they said of themselves, “ We are not angry
with our neighbor if he does anything to please himself.” On
the other hand, it was expected that each would work out his
own pleasure and contribute to the general good by whatever
means pleased him best. He should be spontaneous and give an
expression of himself in all things that he did. Under such cir-
cumstances in one century the city of Athens “gave birth to
more great men of the first rank than the whole world has ever
produced in any equal period of time.”

Great achievement is intimately bound up with spontaneity
of interest and effort. Science truly is international and profits
much by the interaction of one people with another, even to the
extent of obtaining fundamental values in this way. But the
primary need is that each nation shall set about its part of the
common problem in a way of its own, allowing its national in-
dividuality full freedom for self-expression according to its pe-
culiar bias. Otherwise its attainments are a mere appendage
to those of another people and contribute but little to the gen-
eral good which would not have been as well developed if that
nation had never existed. And so it has come about justly that
history has recorded permanently but little concerning any
civilization which did not develop from within. Likewise no
national contributions to science can be of great and abiding
interest unless they spring up essentially from the life and
thought of the nation itself.

In order that we may have the greatest development with
the most important consequences we must have abiding with us
in research the spontaneity of the nation, the institution and the
individual; and the greatest of these is the spontaneity of the
individual.

526 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE ROMANCE AND THE TRAGEDY OF
SNEEZING

By Dr. WILSON D. WALLIS

SAN FRANCISCO

ROM time immemorial the sneeze has been deemed worthy
F of notice and has elicited some form of salutation from
bystanders or some expression from the agent. The phrase,
“not to be sneezed at,” has behind it an importance attaching
to the act of sneezing to which the whole human race bears wit-
ness. Even children notice it as something peculiar and have
sayings of their own, such as, “Scat!” or “Shoo!” The origin
of the importance attaching to sneezing is thus a question of
psychological import as well as one of cultural diffusion.

As W. R. Halliday has remarked,

It is per se a startling phenomenon to find the body, which in normal
action is the instrument of the owner’s will and intention, behaving in a
way independent of his desire or volition. Simply because it is involun-
tary, the twitching of the eyelid or the tingling of the ear must be mi-
raculous. And primitive man finds a significance in everything which
attracts his notice, particularly in cases where there is no obvious cause.

This is good psychology and an array of facts can be adduced
to prove the point. Before returning to the interpretation of
the beliefs attached to sneezing, it will be well to describe some
of the customs associated with it. The first instances will be
cited from the classical cultures and from our own civilization,
after which we will review the evidence from savagery.

Ancient Greece.—The ancient Greek greeted a sneeze with
the words, £0, Zed cS6or, “ Live, Zeus preserve thee!” Aristotle
declared the sneeze an honorable acknowledgment of the seat of
good sense and genius. Accordingly, when a bridegroom
sneezed an observer remarked, ‘‘Some good spirit sneezed out
on thee a blessing”; and Penelope remarked, ‘‘My son has
sneezed a blessing on all my words.” Sneezing was the indica-
tion of life first shown by the man primeval endowed by Prome-
theus with living spirit. The custom has been handed down
by the Greek Adam to his descendants.

Rome.—Petronius, Apuleius and Pliny tells us of the Roman
custom of saluting one who has sneezed, and Plutarch declares
that to sneeze before a naval battle betokens victory. The be-

SNEEZING 527

lief was current among the Romans that when the Dogstar
arose, the wild beast, which the Egyptians called Oryx, stood
facing it steadfastly, and then sneezed, “as if it were worship-
ping it.”1. The Roman salutation was “Salve!” equivalent to
our “‘ May you have health!”

Persia.—In the Zoroastrian religion, according to the pre-
cepts of the Zend-Avesta, prayer is advised after sneezing. It
is necessary to recite some of the sacred texts, for there is a
fiend in the body. In the body is a fire, a disposition, or an in-
stinct of sneezing; this wages war with the fiend; sneezing in-
dicates the triumph of this disposition and the expulsion of the
demon. One who hears the sneeze utters the same prayer as the
sneezer.

Hindu.—The Hindu theory is that a spirit is entering or is
leaving the nose. The bystander says ‘‘ Live!” to which the
reply must be made, “ With you,” that is, “The same to you,”
or the bystander says, ‘‘ God bless you!” or, ‘‘ God be praised! ”
—the last mentioned is borrowed from the Mohammedans. If
one is beginning work and hears another sneeze, it is necessary
to begin the task again. If one sneezes while praying he must
begin again, otherwise his prayers will be offensive to the deity.
Compare with this the English saying:

To sneeze at prayer
Is the devil’s snare.

China.—In China when one sneezes he remarks: “I wonder
who is talking about me!” A bystander may say, “ Dai gut lai
see!” “Good luck!”

Mohammedanism.—Replying to a sneeze is one of the duties
recognized by the Mohammedans as among the Tarz Kafa’i,
the sacred duties imposed upon the faithful. According to Abu
Hurairah, Mohammed said: Verily God loves sneezing and hates
yawning. If a person sneezes and says immediately thereafter,
“God be praised!” one of the auditors must reply, ‘God have
mercy on you.” To this the sneezer replies, “God guide us and
guide you.” The nose is a dangerous retreat for evil spirits
and the Mohammedan, when he rises in the morning, washes
out the nose with water, for the devil has probably visited it
during the night.

Jews.—A Jewish tradition states that before the time of
Jacob men sneezed but once and then died—a curious swan’s
song. In order to preserve a memory of the happy substitution
when men died from natural diseases rather than from a sneeze,

1 Pliny, Bk. II., 40; Aslian VILI., 8.

528 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

every prince commanded his subjects to employ a salutatory ex-
clamation after the act of sneezing. The custom of replying to
a sneeze existed among the Jews, whose formula was, “ Tobim
khayim,” 2. e., ‘God (give you) life,” or “ Asusa,” “ Health.”
The sneezer generally recited Genesis XLIX., 18, “I have waited
for thy salvation, O Lord’’; and, when the bystanders blessed
him, replied: ‘‘Be thou blessed.” That the Hebrews probably
regarded the sneeze as an indication of the coming or the leav-
ing of the spirit is shown by 2 Kings IV., 35: When Elisha re-
stored the Shumanite’s son his return to life was signified by
the lad’s sneezing seven times, and then opening his eyes.

Christianity.—In early Christian times the sign of the cross
was made by the sneezer, though later ecclesiastical advice was
to pay no heed to sneezings. They were sometimes regarded as
a momentary palsy. In vain, however, did Eligius (588-659),
Bishop of Noyon, an eminent French clerical writer, admonish
the Christians to ‘‘ pay no attention to auguries and sneezings.”
Respect for them persisted, and a later tradition within the
church found countenance for it by assigning its origin to an
ordinance of Pope Gregory, who is said to have instituted a
short benediction for such occasions. He was moved to this by
the fact that a certain pestilence was attended by sneezing and
these sneezes usually resulted in death.

However this may be, we find many survivals among Chris-
tian peoples of the superstitious respect attaching to this re-
markable function. The Roman salutation of Sit salutiferum
is preserved by Italians of to-day as Felicita, by the French as
Bonne santé, or a “God bless you,” by Germans as “ Prosit!”
or as “ Gesundheit!” A German who sneezes while putting on
his shoes accepts this as a sign of ill-luck; if he sneezes while
telling something to another this is a sign of the truth of his
assertion. In Esthonia if two pregnant women sneeze at the
same time this is a sign that they will give birth to daughters;
if their husbands sneeze in chorus this signifies that the chil-
dren will be sons.

In the north of England, when one sneezes the formula is
“Bless the bairn”’; and children are still told:

If you sneeze on a Monday, you sneeze for danger;
Sneeze on a Tuesday, kiss a stranger;

Sneeze on a Wednesday, sneeze for a letter;

Sneeze on a Thursday, something better;

Sneeze on a Friday, sneeze for sorrow;

Sneeze on a Saturday, see your sweetheart to-morrow.

What the Sunday sneeze betokens we can only guess.

SNEEZING 529

We probably have European influence in the belief of the
negroes of Jamaica that if the nostrils itch so that you sneeze,
some one is backbiting you; and also in the belief of negroes
or North Carolina to the effect that if you sneeze while eating,
you will hear of a death.

In Malta one says to the sneezer, “ Evviva” or “ Sahha!”

In England a sneeze is often greeted with, “God bless the
Duke of Argyl,” though this formula is an insult to a Scotch-
man.

Another English saying, “We are never so near death as
when we sneeze,” seems to indicate the idea that a sneeze is a
sign that the soul is leaving the body.

In Ireland the bystander says to the sneezer, “ The blessing
of God and Holy Mary be on you!” or, “ The consecration be
upon you!” meaning, the holy water.

The Bohemian declares that should you hear a sneeze, and be
unable to see the sneezer, you must say, “God make you well
again.” Perhaps it was a wandering soul which, by your kind
formula, you have now delivered.

The “Rules of Civility” (translated from the French in
1685) declares: “‘If his lordship chances to sneeze, you are not
to bawl out, ‘God bless you, sir,’ but, pulling off your hat, bow
to him handsomely and make that observation to yourself.”

In Bengal bystanders must make a profound bow in order
to avoid ill-luck, and in Portugal it is still the custom for by-
standers to remove the hat. Trajan, otherwise indisposed to
attend to the ordinary civilities, was very punctilious in giving
the proper salutation to sneezers, and expected a like return
when he sneezed. It is said of the present German Kaiser that,
having sneezed, and those present not knowing what to do, he
remarked to those present, “I sneezed and no one said ‘ Gesund-
heit!’”

The Lower Cultures——Having indicated the prevalence in
the higher cultures of the superstitions attaching to the sneeze,
we may turn our attention to similar beliefs among the lower
peoples, where human nature is quite as much in the ascendant.

In Indonesia sneezing is taken as an indication that the soul
is either leaving or returning to the body. The belief is widely
prevalent that a sick man who sneezes will recover, since this
happy event betokens the return of the soul. Among Torajas,
Javanese, Battak and Dayaks, when a child sneezes its mother
pronounces a wish that no spirit may take away the soul of the
child. In the case of adults sneezing is a sign that friends think
of them, or that enemies are attempting to injure their souls.

VOL. vu.—34.

530 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

When the latter is the supposition, to prevent the success of
these malicious designs, an imprecation is uttered by the
sneezer.

If an Annamese child less than a year old is so inconsiderate
as to sneeze, those present, apprehending danger, call out “ com
ca,” “rice and fish,” the cry which they raise when he appears
to faint or when he starts nervously in his sleep.

The Melanesians, of the Solomon Islands, in Florida, and
the New Hebrides, are similarly apprehensive of a child’s
sneeze. The Mafulu, of New Guinea, are said to have no super-
stition with regard to sneezing, but the Koita regard is as a sign
that the soul has come back to the body. If a person does not
sneeze for many weeks this is an indication that the soul is far
away. In Miriam, one of the islands of the Torres Straits, when
aman sneezes he accepts this as a sign that some one has men-
tioned his name. He immediately cracks the joints of each
thumb by pressing the closed fingers of his respective hands
upon the thumbs. In another of these islands, Kauralaig, it
was the custom for the sneezer to make violent gestures with his
hands and arms, presumably with the intention of driving away
the evil influence that was seeking to take up its abode in his
irritated nostrils.

Sneezing used to be in North Queensland, Australia, a far
more potent thing than it is at the present day. According to a
tradition current in the region of Charlotte Bay, one of the
earlier heroes once gave a sneeze of such force as to dislodge
from the crevice of a tree the arm of another who had not been
able to disengage it. The romance of the sneeze has not entirely
disappeared from that region, however, for at the present day,
the natives declare, the sneeze of a man indicates that a woman
is in love with him.

In Motlan when a child sneezes the mother says, “ Let him
come back into the world!” or, “‘ Let him remain!” On Leper’s
Island when a child sneezes the people say, ‘‘ Good wishes!”
The soul has been away and has just returned. In Mota, under
such circumstances, the saying is, ‘‘ Live! Roll back to us!”
The soul is being drawn out of the body through the nostrils
into that other wvrid beyond human ken. When an adult
sneezes he says, ‘‘Stamp down the mischief from me! Let it be
quiet!” or, “Let them say their words in vain! Let them lay
their plots in vain!” Thus will the magic of his formula coun-
teract the charm of the enemy.

In Siam those present wish the sneezer long life.

In Saa, one of the Polynesian islands, the sneezer says, ‘‘ Who
is calling me? If for well, good; if for evil, may I be defended!”

SNEEZING 531

In Old Calabar people say, when children sneeze, “‘ Far from
you!” accompanying the words with a gesture designed to ward
off the impending evil. On the other hand, the Toradjas, of the
central Celebes, declare sneezing a sign that a sick person’s soul
has returned, and that he is recovering. In the Tonga Islands,
to sneeze at the moment of setting out on an expedition is a bad
omen.

At this time Mr. Mariner, on entering the house, happened to sneeze!
Immediately every one present threw down his club, for who would pro-
ceed on so important an expedition after so dire an omen! Finow’s eyes
flashed with the fire of rage; directing them full on Mr. Mariner, he
cursed him with the most bitter curse, “Strike your god! ”’—and, rising
from the ground, he demanded why he came there??

If a Maori warrior sneezed when eating it was a sign that
he would fall in battle and would be cooked and eaten by the
enemy. The sneeze of a common person while eating, or when
about to eat, signified that visitors or news would soon arrive;
a charm should be said to avert the evil attendant upon a sneeze.
To avert evil the Maori pronounced this spell when one sneezed:

Sneeze, living Soul!

In the light of day.

Those on the sea are blest with plenty,

There is plenty for the mighty lord.

Sneeze thou!

Baptized into life!
It was not necessary to repeat the whole charm, frequently only
the first few words being recited. This charm, or another, was
pronounced by the mother, to avert evil consequences, when her
child sneezed. In giving a name to a child the “ priest” chanted
the genealogies of the male line; if the child sneezed, the name
that was being uttered at this time was bestowed upon it—pos-
sibly because the ancestral spirit was supposed to be inspiring
the sneeze. When the king of Sennaar sneezes his courtiers im-
mediately turn their backs and slap their thigh, vigorously.

In the Congo, when the Mushidi, or chief, sneezes, all who
hear it clap their hands loudly and shout, “‘ Long live the King!
Hail!” The oftener he sneezes the longer will be his life, a
sneeze being but an outflow, or the overflow of a superabundance
of life. Consequently, a paroxysm of sneezing evokes a chorus
of approval. When a Bakongo sneezes some one sitting close
by says, “Come quickly.” If the sneezer be a child of tender
years the mother calls out, “Come back quickly.” This is to
summon back the spirit which is supposed to be leaving the
body when one sneezes. If any of the slaves buried alive at the

2J. Martin, “ The Tonga Islands,” p. 271.

532 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

death of a Yao chief should sneeze after being placed in the
grave, he was spared, in the belief that the spirit had thus sig-
nified his refusal of that particular victim. Evndently, they
were not in the habit of taking snuff—this would have been a
life-saver.

A Gold Coast story speaks of a leaf, which, when a person
smelled it, caused sneezing. “They rubbed the leaf upon the
noses of the two cows. Then the cows at once looked as if they
wanted to sneeze, and they rubbed the leaf on the noses of the
two cows.” A medicine-man attempted to restore a woman
killed by witchcraft by inducing sneezing, presumably so that
the evil spirit would escape—or her own return. When the king
of Dahomey sneezed, all present touched the ground with their
foreheads; but to sneeze in the presence of royalty was punished
by a fine. Among the Ewe-speaking peoples to sneeze is a bad
omen. Among the western tribes
this involuntary convulsion is an indication that something is happening
to the indwelling spirit, usually that it is about to quit the body; and as
that affords opportunity for a homeless indwelling spirit to enter the
body and cause sickness, the omen is bad. Among the eastern tribes,

though the notion of the indwelling spirit has been to some extent con-
fused with that of the ghost-man, the old superstition still prevails.

If the indwelling spirit should leave a man when he is awake,
he becomes appraised of its departure by a sneeze or a yawn.
Hence the sneeze is believed to indicate that the kra, one of the
man’s souls, is leaving the body, and the bystanders always
offer some wishes of good health.

Among the Tshi-speaking tribes a sneeze seems to be regarded as
an evidence of something unpleasant or painful having happened to the
indwelling kra. Hence, as the well-being of the man is indissolubly bound
up with that of his kra, it is usual for persons to address wishes of long
life and good health to anyone who sneezed, with the idea of thereby
averting an independent ill.

When the king of Ashantee sneezes, every person present
touches or lays the two first fingers across the forehead and
breast, as the Moors did when they pronounced a blessing, and
the Ashantees, invariably, to propitiate one. When the king
of Monomotapa sneezed, it became a national concern. Those
nearest the royal person howled a salutation, which was taken
up by the antechamber; and when the horrid cry had run
through the palace, it was re-echoed by the whole city.

When a Thonga sneezes, he is addressed with this good wish:
“Life and sleep!” He himself calls upon the gods, saying:

I pray to you! I have no anger against you! Be with me and let

SNEEZING 533

me sneeze! Let me sleep and let me see life! so that I may go by the road,
I may find an antelope (dead in the bush), I may take it on my shoulders;
or that I may go and kill an elephant (meaning, meet with a girl and
obtain her favor). Now I say it is enough, you nose!

The sneeze of a child during one of the ceremonies is ominous.

Any man who sneezed in the presence of the Zulu chief,
Chaka, was instantly killed. The Xosa says, “Qamata help
me!” Qamata being either a powerful chief or some super-
natural being. Other Kafirs, when they sneeze, say, ‘“‘ Chiefs,”
or, “‘ May the chiefs bless me!’”—much as people in the lower
classes in England say, “‘ Lor’ bless you!” To sneeze is thought
to be a very good sign. In ancient days, when a Zulu chief
sneezed, all the people near would say, ‘‘ May the chief live
long!” or, ‘‘ May he grow greater!” If a sick person begins to
sneeze, the people say it is a sure sign that he is about to re-
cover, for the spirits are pleased.” If he is ill and does not
sneeze the disease is a malignant one. To a child who sneezes
they say, “Grow!” for this is a sign of health. In the case of
an adult it is a sign that the ancestral spirits have come to the
agent and he returns thanks. This is especially true of the
medicine-men. The Christian Zulus say, ‘‘ Preserve, look upon
me!” or, ‘Heaven and Earth!” Elsewhere, among the Kafirs,

Sneezing is considered a very good sign, and when a small child
sneezes the mother says, “ Thanks, Chiefs!” thus giving thanks to the
ancestral spirits who are supposed to be shown by this sign to be taking
care of the child. Sometimes when a child sneezes the mother will simply
say, “Chiefs!” thus giving thanks to the amatongo (ancestral spirits).
At other times the mother says, “ Throw out and you will grow well.”

The North American Indians, to mention but one more cul-
ture area, have attached considerable importance to the sneeze.
Among the Eskimo of Hudson Bay, when a person sneezes, he
must say to his soul, ‘“‘ Come back!” otherwise he might become
sick. If a child sneezes, the mother smacks her lips, the appro-
priate response of the child which she performs for it. The
sneeze of a sick person, however, is a sign of approaching re-
covery. The Bilqula declare sneezing an indication that people
are talking about one. To sneeze three times in succession was
believed by the Stlatlumh to bring good luck to the person sneez-
ing. To sneeze through the right nostril is a sign of good for-
tune; to sneeze through the left, a sign of bad fortune.

The Wasco associate sneezing with mention of a person’s
name:

The young men asked, “ Who is the chief of the village?’”” The old
woman said, “ We must not tell you. If we mention his name, that moment

534 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

he will sneeze and say, ‘My name is mentioned in the old house at the
end of the village,’ and he will send to see who is here,” but the brothers
insisted. At last the old woman told him, and that instant the chief
sneezed and sent to the house.

The same belief is found among the Takelma, where a person
who sneezes says, “ Who calls my name?”

“Thou shalt prosper,” shall he say of me, “‘ yet another day shalt thou
go ahead.” (That is, “ mayest thou continue to live.”) Yeshall blow to me,
meaning, “blow a whiff of tobacco smoke for my prosperity.”
Here, too,

When a person sneezed, it was believed that his name was being
mentioned by some one afar off. To prevent the evil effect to the person
named of a possible mention of his name in connection with ill wishes
(for words as such may have power of good or ill), it was customary to
apostrophize the absent ones: “ Who is it that calls my name? May ye

(who speak to me) say in regard to me: ‘ Do thou prosper, mayest thou
go ahead [i. e., continue life] yet another day!’ May ye blow to me!”

Among the Yana a woman says:

May I be happy! Do you people not speak about me! Do you speak
for my happiness when speaking about me!

A man says:

May I be happy! May my legs feel light! May you people speak
for my happiness! Would that you would let me alone! I bathe, and I
go back into my house, and I rejoice in my eating.

Among the Dakota to sneeze once means that a man’s special
friend, his son, or his wife, has pronounced his name; where-
upon he calls out, “My son.” If he sneezes twice he exclaims,
“My son and his mother.” When a Crow Indian sneezes by-
standers say to him, “ They are calling you; that is why you
sneeze,” though the remark is said to be regarded simply as a
joke. The Apache remarks, “‘Some one calls my name.” The
Pima pronounces the names of Earth Magician and of Elder
Brother, two of the culture heroes, when he sneezes; or, he may
simply exclaim, “‘ Pity me!” as a plea to one of these two crea-
tures. The Guiana Indians believe that during sneezing or
yawning the soul is temporarily leaving the body, though what
they do about it we are not told.

When De Sota, in the year 1542, was interviewing the Caci-
que Guachoya, the latter happened to sneeze. Thereupon all the
attendants of the cacique bowed their heads, opened and closed
their arms, and made signs of veneration, saluting their prince
with such phrases as, “‘ May the sun guard you!” “ May the sun
shine upon you!” ‘May the sun defend you!” “ May the sun
protect you!”

SNEEZING 535

The Ominous Sneeze.—As we have seen, the sneeze is fre-
quently accepted as indicative of good or of ill luck, and some-
times there is a further specification of the fortune, good or
bad, to be expected.

In the island of Florida the sneeze indicates that some one is
speaking about the man, is angry with him, is calling upon his
tindalo, or personal ghost, to eat him. He accordingly responds
by calling upon his own tindalo to take revenge on the man who
would injure him. In the Celebes a man who sneezes when
about to part company with friends must return, and sit down
awhile in order to fend off the impending ill.

The Siamese consider it lucky to sneeze many times. They
believe also that the judges of the lower realm of shades keep a
book in which the name of every one is registered, and that,
when this book is opened all those whose names appear on the
page that is observed sneeze. Their optimism, therefore, seems
to indicate great faith in a clear record on this golden book. To
the Chinaman, too, the sneeze indicates luck, and the gambler
who sneezes knows that he will win. In many parts of Europe
to sneeze when one sees a hearse indicates that another death
will soon occur in that vicinity. In India to sneeze at the
threshold is unlucky. The Romans declared that when a cupid-
like little boy sneezed the birth of a beautiful girl baby was
thereby indicated.

The Greeks considered sneezing to the left unlucky, but
lucky if to the right. When Themistocles sacrificed in his galley
before the battle of Xeres, and one of the assistants upon the
right hand sneezed, Euphantides, the soothsayer, presaged the
victory of the Greeks and the overthrow of the Persians. When
Xenophon was addressing his troops, the doughty ten thousand,
and his remarks, ‘‘We have many reasons to hope for pre-
servation,” were punctuated by a sneeze from one of the attend-
ing soldiers, Xenophon paused, then resumed: “Since, my fel-
low-soldiers, at the mention of your preservation, Jupiter has
sent this omen.” Xenophon had previously profited by this
omen, for he owed his appointment as general to the happy
event of a sneeze to the right of him while he was making a
speech. On each occasion the army accepted the omen and the
men were inspired with new vigor. The custom of regarding
the sneeze as ominous is as old as Homer. Evidence of this is
to be found in the eighteenth book of the Odyssey:

She spoke: Telemachus there sneezed aloud;
Constrain’d, his nostril echo’s through the crowd.
The smiling queen the happy omen blest:

So may the impious fall, by fate opprest.

536 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Aristotle puzzled over the problem—And is it not enough
to try the mettle of any philosopher ?—‘“ Why sneezing from
noon to midnight was good, but from night to noon unlucky.”
St. Austin declares: “The ancients were wont to go to bed
again if they sneezed while they put on their shoe.”

In England, as still in Siam, much sneezing is regarded as
favorable. ‘‘Two or three neses be holsom; one is a shrewd
token,” says an old English motto. ‘‘He hath sneezed thrice,
turn him out of the hospital,” was a seventeenth-century prov-
erb, an assurance that the patient will now do well. Sir Thomas
Browne recognized it as in the main a good sign and approved
of the giving to persons near death a medicine which would in-
duce sneezing—“‘if the faculty arise, and sternutation ensues,
they conceive hopes of life, and with gratulation receive the
sign of safety.” If a sick person can not sneeze the disease will
end in death—a belief which we have found in other parts of
the world. Sir Thomas Browne assures us, however, that
sneezing is bad if the patient be an unmarried girl, a widow,
a barren wife, a shoe-maker’s wife, a woman sick with the
cholera.

The meaning attached to sneezing by European peopies is
of various kinds. An unsuccessful attempt to sneeze indicates
that you will lose something of value; but if you sneeze vio-
lently enough to tear a buttonhole out of a shirt, dress, or vest,
riches are rapidly coming your way. It is good to sneeze while
reading, when launching an argument, when about to retire,
when eating—though, as to the latter, negroes declare it be-
tokens news of a death. It is good to sneeze at seed sowing,
for the harvest will be great. You will not sleep well if the
servant sneezed while making up your bed—possibly because
you will be amid too much dust. Two men talking business and
sneezing simultaneously have cause for mutual and self-con-
gratulation. The soldier who sneezes at the mention of an ap-
proaching battle will be on the side favored by victory. (Then
may such a sneeze go forth from all the Sammies and Tommies
as will blow the enemy ! But, doubtless, they are sneezing
enough.) To sneeze twice each night for three successive
nights is a sign of approaching death. If you sneeze between
eleven and twelve o’clock, you may expect a stranger. Hus-
band, beware: If you sneeze while you are getting up in the
morning, lie down again for another three hours, else your wife
will be master for a week. Whether any worse fate awaits the
husband who adopts the above-mentioned prophylactic, who
can say?

SNEEZING 537

To sneeze before breakfast is well; you will receive a pres-
ent that day, unless it be Sunday; in which case declare Ver-
monters, you will hear of the death of a friend before another
Saturday night. Instead of waiting until the preprandial hours
of a Sunday morning, sneeze rather on Saturday night after the
lights are out, and, on the following day you will be rewarded
by the sight of a person whom you have never seen before—a
promise perhaps more inspiring to the countryman than to the
dweller in the city. If you sneeze with food in your mouth you
will hear of the death of a friend; every time you sneeze at table
there will be one more or less the following meal. Whether it
be more or less may depend, we surmise, on whether the old
Roman advice was followed—Sternutare volens vicino obvertito
vultum—when you sneeze turn aside your countenance from
your neighbor—; or whether, on the other hand, the advice was
followed which is given in a book called “The Schools of Slo-
venrie, or Cato turn’d wrong side outward, translated out of
Latin into English Verse, to the use of all English Christen-
dome except Court and Cittie; by R. F. Gent., London, 1605,”
wherein we read:

When you would sneeze, strit turn yourselfe into your neighbor’s face:
As for my part, wherein to sneeze, I know no fitter place;

It is an order, when you sneeze good men will pray for you;

Mark him that doth so, for I thinke he is your friend most true.

And that your friend may know who sneezes, and may for you pray,
Be sure you not forget to sneeze full in his face alway.

But when thou hear’st another sneeze, although he be thy father,

Say not God blest him, but Choke him, or some such matter, rather.

Aristotle’s explanation of the respect shown to sneezing is
that the first men, viewing the head as the principal seat of the
soul, an intelligent organ governing as well as animating the
entire body, carried this respect to sternutation as the most
manifest sign of life. Hence the compliments heaped upon the
sneezer. Since it is a motion of the brain suddenly expelling
through the nostrils what is offensive to it, it can not fail to
afford some evidence of the brain’s, that is, the mind’s vigor.
Aristotle’s view is endorsed by Sir Thomas Browne.

That some peoples should attach a sinister meaning and
others a favorable meaning to the sneeze is not difficult to un-
derstand. Fear of bad consequences leads to the pronouncement
of a formula, a blessing designed to ward off the evil. The pro-
nouncement of a blessing or of wishes for one’s welfare may
easily pass over into expectation of its fulfilment, and, conse-

538 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

quently, of benefits. Eventually the benefits are thought of to
the exclusion of the threatening evils, and hence the sneeze be-
comes propitious. It is easy to see that a people may entertain
one or the other attitude toward it; and that, possibly as the re-
sult of accidental association, particularly should it receive con-
firmation, some sorts of sneezes may be considered propitious
and others dangerous.

Thus the explantion of the curious beliefs associated with
the extraordinary phenomenon of sneezing is not far to seek,
and has already been repeatedly given in the various practices
already described. The soul often finds exit or entrance by the
nose or by the mouth, for it is in large part identified with the
breath. The breath of the nostrils is indeed the life of a man,
and his life force is intimately bound up with his soul. For this
reason the nostrils as well as the mouth of the dying man are
sometimes held or closed to keep in the soul. This is done some-
times for the benefit of the deceased, since this soul should ac-
company the body wherein it has resided, and sometimes for
the benefit of the survivors who have little desire to remain in
the company of the disembodied spirit of him with whom they
associated in life. In the Celebes fish hooks were attached to a
man’s nostrils to impale the soul of the dying should it attempt
to escape. Eskimo mourners, or those who prepare the body
for burial, plug the nostrils lest the soul which is supposed to
remain with the body should find exit and follow the migratory
soul of the dead to the land whence souls are reincarnated. It
is not uncommon for savages, while sleeping, to cover the nos-
trils and the mouth, to prevent the escape of the soul unknown
to the unconscious owner. Even the cultured Greeks and
Romans were not averse to leaning over the dying man in order
to obtain the spirit of the departed by inhaling his last breath,
and so receiving his spirit into themselves.

This, coupled with appreciation of its startling and peculiar
nature, is the philosophy which has given rise both to the
romance and to the tragedy of the sneeze.

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA 539

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA AND PHYSIO-
LOGICAL MOMENTUM

By D. FRASER HARRIS, M.D., D.Sc., F.R.S.C., F.R.S.E.

PROFESSOR OF PHYSIOLOGY AT DALHOUSIE UNIVERSITY, HALIFAX, N. S.

EWTON’S first law of motion states: ‘‘ Every body con-

tinues in its state of rest or of uniform motion in a

straight line, except in so far as it is compelled by forces to
change that state.”

The conception of inertia is inherent in this famous defini-
tion, for that property of matter in virtue of which matter
tends to maintain its state of rest or of uniform motion in a
straight line, is called inertia.

Functional inertia is that property of living matter (bio-
plasm) in virtue of which, having received a stimulus, it con-
tinues to maintain the functional status quo ante, whether that
was activity or inactivity; and functional momentum is that
property of bioplasm in virtue of which the living matter,
having responded to a stimulus, continues to exhibit its activity
or inactivity after the stimulus has ceased to exist. Func-
tional or physiological inertia is that property of living matter
which maintains the status quo ante, namely, non-response to
a stimulus tending to arouse a response (functional inertia of
rest), or response after the stimulus has ceased (functional
momentum).

Affectability is that property of living matter in virtue of
which it responds to a stimulus either by activity or by the
quelling of activity (inhibition). States of inactivity or in-
hibitions are, therefore, equally with activity responses to
stimulation. We may express the inter-relations of these fac-
tors as follows:

A stimulus having been received, then if affectability pre-
dominates there may be either activity or inactivity; and con-
versely, if functional inertia is predominant when the stimulus
is received, there will be activity, if activity was the status
quo, but inactivity, if inactivity was the status quo. Finally,
the stimulus having ceased to act, there will be, owing to func-
tional momentum, activity, if activity was the status quo, in-
acivity if inactivity was the status quo. As a recent writer

540 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in Nature puts it— Responses to stimuli cannot take place in-
stantly, neither do stimulation effects fade away momentarily.’

Some definite examples might be given: a stimulus is ap-
plied to a muscle at rest; the muscle does not shorten until
after a “latent period” which is lengthened by cold and fatigue:
here the functional inertia of the muscle maintains the status
quo ante of inaction: the heart is beating when a stimulus tend-
ing to stop it (inhibit) is received, the heart makes a beat or
two before it stops; here the status quo ante of activity was
maintained.

If the cardio-accelerator nerves of the heart are stimulated,
the heart’s action is accelerated, on stopping the stimulus the
heart continues to beat fast for some time before it resumes
its pre-stimulant rate; this is post-stimulant activity due to
physiological momentum. If the vagus or inhibitory nerve of
the heart is stimulated, the heart can be brought to a stand-
still; when the stimulus is withdrawn, the heart remains quies-
cent for some time before it resumes beating; this post-stimu-
lant inhibition is due to functional momentum.

Both properties, affectability and functional inertia, coexist
in bioplasm, at one time one predominates, at another another.
Thus, in the heart cycle during systole, functional inertia pre-
dominates, for a stimulus given during systole is totally disre-
garded (refractory period). During diastole, affectability pre-
dominates, and a stimulus given during that phase elicits a
small systole (extra systole). This functional inertia during
systole makes it impossible to tetanize the heart.

These limits set to metabolic possibilities are due to the
possession of functional inertia, a property possessed contem-
poraneously with affectability. Thus, as I wrote in 1908, the
manifestation of life at any given instant is to be regarded as
the resultant of two coexisting but physiologically opposite
functional propensities or capabilities; the degree of whose
relative intensities conditions the character of the particular
manifestation at the moment; response if affectability be the
predominating condition; non-response if functional inertia be
the characteristic state. Non-correspondence with environ-
ment is the keynote of protoplasmic inertia; independence of
environment, disregard of stimulation, inaccessibility to ex-
ternal influences, insusceptibilities, resistances, limits to powers
of response—a holding on the even tenor of the metabolic way.

Limits to rates of activity, superior limits to rhythms, are
inertial. Cilia bend to and fro at about ten to twelve a second

1 Nature, January 3, 1919, p. 354.

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA 541

at ordinary temperatures; but on being heated can not do so
faster than twenty a second. Thus the (rabbit’s) heart heated
can not perform systoles at a greater rate than six a second,
our respiratory center can not discharge impulses at a greater
rate than about two per second, we can not perform twitching
movements of the fingers at a greater rate than about twelve a
second, nor articulate more than about ten to twelve syllables
per second, and so forth. Professor Sir A. Schafer, Pro-
fessor Waller, Professor Starling, Sir S. Sharkey and the late
Professor Mosso, all use the term “inertia ” as referring to
nerve cells.

Closely allied to inertial limits are inherent rhythms, as
demonstrating a disregard of environmental stimuli. For in-
stance, the “ post-tetanic tremor” (D. F. H.) in which a muscle
twitches at about four to six a second, although it is receiving
stimuli at a rate which, when it was unfatigued, produced in it
complete tetanus.

Protoplasmic inertia is the physiological counterpart of
affectability. Dead organisms have no affectability at all,
but infinitely great functional inertia. Those in latent life
(Scheintod) have very little affectability and much functional
inertia. Thus the dried Rotifera, Tardigrada and many ova
amongst animals; and seeds, resting (winter) buds and frozen
bacteria, etc., amongst plants, are all cases of insusceptibility
due to the possession of a high degree of functional inertia.
Seeds, for instance, have little affectability ; they will give an
electric response to a powerful condenser discharge sent
through them, but otherwise their inertia is extreme. As a
French writer puts it, they are “tombés dans un état d’inertie
complete.” Writers in clinical medicine clearly recognize the
condition which I am describing as a fundamental property of
protoplasm. Thus Dr. R. W. Leftwich? writes of a type of
coughing that “persists for long after the condition which
produced it has passed off.”

My early critics misapprehended my position in one or
two respects; some complained, for instance, that functional
inertia explained “too much.” They might as well have com-
plained that affectability explains too much. They failed to
recognize that both these fundamental, vital properties—affect-
ability and functional inertia—are coexistent and omnipresent,
that there is no portion of living matter that does not possess

2“ Aids to Rational Therapeutics,” R. W. Leftwich, M.D., London,
Bailliere, Tyndale, Cox, 1918, p. 6.

542 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

some of each property, and that, therefore, between them they
must “explain” the whole of life. Of course no property of
protoplasm “explains” life; but all manifestations of living-
ness are dependent on the simultaneous possession by living
matter of two complementary and equally fundamental proper-
ties, affectability and functional inertia. At no time in the
life of the organism is there absolutely only one of these prop-
erties in existence; in death functional inertia is maximal and
affectability has disappeared. The converse of this, a state of
infinite affectability with no functional inertia, is not known
now and here on this globe.

Physiological insusceptibility may be absolute, as in such
cases as light waves falling on the auditory nerve or sound
waves on the optic where there are no responses whatever.
These and similar conditions might be called absolute func-
tional inertia; but inasmuch as the stimuli are not only hetero-
logous but perfectly inappropriate, these cases need not further
detain us. The case, however, of the stigma of a particular
species of plant being insusceptible of fertilization by the pollen
of some other species is another case of the same sort of inertia.

Certain idiosyncrasies may be related to the two proper-
ties of protoplasm thus—extreme “susceptibility”? towards a
poison or drug is due to extreme affectability towards it,
whereas a high degree of resistance to a poison or drug is the
outcome of a relative functional inertia towards it.

A tissue performing some chemical transformation may
exhibit functional inertia under one of its many aspects; the
tissue or organ may exhibit a longer or shorter latent period
after the exciting stimulus has been received; it may maintain
its own particular rate or pace of activity; it may produce its
own proper chemical transformations after the stimulus has
ceased to exist; and, finally, it may be concerned in such an
activity as the excretion of uric acid, which is in itself regarded
by some physiologists as chemically a vestigial process. On this
view, the excretion of uric acid by the mammal is a survival of
a chemical activity characteristic of an avian ancestor. The
excretion of this acid is thus an example of the maintenance of
a chemical status quo ante.

Physiological momentum is strikingly shown by certain
vegetable organisms. The opening and closing of certain
flowers goes on for some days after the plants have been placed
in the dark; “‘ the seasonal periodicity is exhibited by deciduous

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA 543

trees when removed to countries where the vegetation is
evergreen.’”?

Professor W. A. Osborne, of Melbourne, Australia, found
that his diurnal curve of temperature maintained its subtropical
character for some weeks after he had been living in the tem-
perate zone.

The time of onset of menstruation affords another example;
the Hindoo girl begins to menstruate at twelve or thirteen, the
English at fourteen to seventeen years of age; an English child
taken to India begins this function not at the age appropriate
to the native race and the hot climate, but at that indicative
of her own.

Birds in captivity, removed from all circumstances that
might be supposed to indicate or necessitate journeys, never-
theless become restless at the return of the season for migration.

All activity of organs after the death of the body as a whole
(somatic death) are examples of physiological momentum;
thus, the possibility of the perfused heart beating, of the liver
secreting bile, of the skin glands and hairs surviving, of nerve
fibers remaining active, and so on, are all examples of it.

The over production of anti-toxin after the stimulus (toxin)
has ceased to operate has been repeatedly quoted by medical
writers as a striking example of physiological momentum.

The relations of functional inertia to heredity are intimate
and obvious. If functional inertia is a property of cells, and
therefore of tissues, organs, systems and organisms, it must
also belong to the individuals who compose the race. It is re-
sponsible for racial characteristics, it moulds national destinies.
Thus, races with much functional inertia, which learn anything
new with the utmost difficulty, remain in their racial status quo
century after century. ‘Oriental inertia” is, in fact, the term
universally used to describe their state of non-receptivity, their
holding on in the straight line of their ancestral path.

There is an inertia of character in the family, clan, nation
or race. As I wrote in 1908,%*

By environmental stimuli acting through affectability we become edu-
cated or trained to be what under other circumstances or in another en-
vironment we might never have become; whereas through functional in-
ertia, character is inherited and certain tendencies become innate, and
one’s individuality unfolds as the underlying ground tone of the life, until
we are what we could not in any way whatever help becoming.

8R. A. Robertson, “Functional Inertia in Vegetable Organisms,”
P. R. S. E., 1901-02.
8a The functional inertia of living matter. London, Churchill. 1908.

544 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

By internal momentum, the “person,” character, individuality, is
forced into manifestation in opposition, it may be, to parental objections,
the teacher’s frown and the disapproval of society generally. It was not
affectability in the Bourbons which caused them to be described as learn-
ing nothing and forgetting nothing. Functional inertia preserves race
peculiarities and guarantees constancy of type through very long periods
of time. As Huxley well said, “any admissible hypothesis of progressive
modification must be compatible with persistence without progression
through indefinite periods.’”’ He then proceeds to remark that no order
of fishes is known to be extinct. Huxley accepts Haeckel’s view that “liv-
ing matter is urged by two impulses, a centripetal, which tends to pre-
serve and transmit the specific form, and which he identifies with heredity,
and a centrifugal which results from the tendency of external conditions
to modify the organism and effect its adaptation to themselves. The
internal impulse is conservative and tends to the preservation of specific
or individual form.”

Huxley has described these two tendencies in living matter
so well that I must quote from him once more.

The tendency to reproduce the original stock has, as it were, its limits,
and side by side with it there is a tendency to vary in certain directions,
as if there were two opposing forces working upon the organic being, one
tending to take it in a straight line, the other tending to make it diverge
from that straight line, first to the one side and then to the other.

The former tendency I attribute to functional inertia, the
latter, of course, to affectability.

Professor J. Arthur Thomson, of Aberdeen, is very em-
phatic when he writes,° “‘in the light of the fact that frequent
as variations are, hereditary constancy or inertia or persistence
of specificity is even more marked.” He is constrained to use
even the very term “inertia,” and entirely in my sense, in his
valuable and exhaustive monograph on “ Inheritance.”

PSYCHIC INERTIA AND PSYCHIC MOMENTUM

Inertia and momentum are as clearly demonstrable in the
things of the mind as they are in those of the body. Sensa-
tions, concepts, emotions, ideas—all mental states—would seem
to possess functional inertia and momentum as distinctly as
it is possessed by the underlying substance of the nervous
system. (I shall not now digress to debate the subject of the
causal interdependence of the activities of the nervous system
and mental or conscious manifestations, although I may re-
mark that I am a thoroughgoing interactionist.)

Dealing in the first instance with sensations, the argument
somewhat as follows. If functional inertia and functional

4 Jour. Royal Micros. Soc., 1916, p. 448.

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA 545

momentum are properties of cerebral protoplasm, they must
also characterize sensations which have the activity of cerebral
protoplasm as their causal physical basis. Professor J. McKeen
Cattell long ago put it so well that his words may be quoted.
“Inertia is a property of our sense-organs. The molecules of
the cells are only set in motion after they have been worked
upon by a stimulus of a certain strength for a certain time, and
the motion continues after the stimulus ceases.” Here Pro-
fessor Cattell recognizes both psychic inertia and psychic mo-
mentum. The latter, indeed, had long ago been described by
Hobbes (died 1679) in these words: “ Like water troubled, an
organ of sense will remain in motion after the removal of
the exciting agent.” Haller (who died in 1777) wrote, “these”
(mutations of cerebral substance) “persist for a long time
after the cause which gives rise to them has ceased to operate.”

Psychic momentum underlies all those sensory phenomena
known as positive after-sensations. The positive after-image
is due to this psychic momentum, advantage of which is taken
in the kinematograph in which a series of brightly illuminated
instantaneous photographs of moving objects produce, by their
retinal persistence, the illusion of continuous movements. If
each impression vanished instantly, then there would be inter-
mittency or flicker and no fusion of effects, as does occur when
the photographs are run through too slowly, giving time for the
after-images to fade away. But any given image “outlives”
its stimulus in virtue of its functional momentum, and, fusing
with the next oncoming image, produces the desired illusion of
continuous action and not what it really is, a series of a iarge
number of instantaneous views of moving objects.

On the material side, the positive after-image is due to the
functional momentum of the retino-cerebral substance. ‘To its
existence is due the fact that a disc half white and half black,
rotated in front of us, appears grey; or one half red and half
blue, purple; and so on. The fusion of effects is only possible
because of persistence of retinal impressions, and these are the
results of physiological, psychic momentum.

Similarly, we feel contacts, pressures, pains, etc., long after
the sources of these sensations have been removed. Who has
not still felt his “rubbers” on his feet for some time after he
has thrown them off?

Professor Sherrington is constrained to use the very word
“inertia” in his article on “Skin, and Common Sensation ”’®

5“ Text-Book of Physiology,” edited by Schafer, London and Edin-
burgh, 1900, Vol. II., pp. 998-999.

VOL, vi1.—35.

546 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

thus: “The inertia of the pain apparatus and the inertia of
the organs for pain seem particularly great.” Writing of
pressure applied to the skin, the same author writes, “ Pressure
applied to the skin makes a sensation which does not sub-
side—the sensation continues.’® This is psychic functional
momentum.

Four years after my views on functional inertia had first
been put down on paper, I came across (1903) a notable lecture
delivered in 1818 by Michael Faraday to a society in London
known as the “City Philosophical Society.” Speaking of in-
ertia, Faraday says:

Whatever is in motion is by it retained in motion, and whatever is at
rest remains at rest under its sway. It opposes every new influence,
strengthens every old one. Is there nothing in the human mind which
seems analogous to this power? Is there no spiritual effect comparable to
this corporeal one? What are habits? Old prejudices? They seem some-
thing like a retention in a certain state due to somewhat more than the

active impulses of the moment. . . . The mind seems to remain in the state
in which it is, and the words which enunciate parts of our natural law
will describe exactly the effect ... to illustrate at once the force of

mental inertia.

Continuing, Faraday writes: “‘ Apathy will represent the
inertia of a passive mind, industry that of an active mind.”
The expression “inertia of the mind” frequently occurs.
Enough has been quoted to show that Faraday had clearly
before him the reality of mental inertia and mental momentum.
The well-marked tendency to do what has been done before, to
continue doing what you have just been doing, to yield to the
familiar, to habit, is nothing else than the expression of psychic
momentum. Every day we have examples of it; some one
reads from the newspaper, “thirty or forty” when it was
“thirty or fewer” that was written. Oliver Wendell Holmes
alleges that not one in ten people can read Judges XV: 16 cor-
rectly; the verse is, “And Samson said; with the jawbone of
an ass heaps upon heaps, with the jaw of an ass have I slain
a thousand men.” Nearly every one reads “jawbone” for
“jaw” in the second clause.

Mental inertia and mental momentum must be as universal
as mental affectability.

Bigotry, superstition and extreme dislike to change are ex-
pressions of psychic inertia, while obsession with an “idea”
and fanaticism are those of psychic momentum. The riots
which occurred in many parts of England on the introduction

8 Tbid., p. 925.

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA 547

of machinery, and the violent protests that were raised against
the making of railways in the early nineteenth century, are
examples of the operation of national functional intertia.

It must not be supposed that the expressions of mental func-
tional inertia are confined to the unreflecting proletariat; prac-
tically all the great discoveries in science and medicine have
met with opposition not because they were not beneficial, but
because they were new.

The discoverers of the circulation of the blood, of vaccina-
tion, of anesthetics, of the germ-origin of disease were ob-
structed and attacked not only by the laity, but by their own
professional brethren. Galileo, Harvey, Jenner, Simpson,
Pasteur and Lister were worried, ridiculed and persecuted, as
all students of the history of discovery know.

Many writers have identified habit with inertia, thus Frank
Buckland wrote of the “ vis inertiz of habit” in fish.

Of course it is in religious systems that we find the most per-
fect examples of psychic inertia and of psychic momentum. As
Herbert Spencer put it, “ Religious dynasties have extraordi-
nary powers to resist change.” National psychic inertia is ex-
pressed by national religion. The stolid, fatalistic and unpro-
gressive Oriental is merely expressing his racial, mental
inertia.

By psychic inertia instincts, capabilities and incapabilities,
predispositions to all manner of activities and non-activities,
are carried over into the next generation where they unfold
themselves and maintain themselves, not only not in harmony
with the environment but often in opposition to it. The en-
vironment in matters psychical is chiefly constituted by educa-
tion and all that that means.

Educability is psychic affectability, ineducability is psychic
inertia. It is this that Professor Ribot alludes to when he
says that heredity has set a limit to the education of the negro.
This is only another way of saying that it is the misfortune
and not the fault of the negro, as it is with all who have in-
herited ineducable disabilities.

This pessimism has been extended by Monsieur Guyau
when he says that education is powerless to modify to any
great extent the radical temperament or character of the indi-
vidual. According to this view, the criminal as well as the
poet nascitur non fit, the child’s whole moral destiny is con-
tained within it while as yet unborn.

We may take the hypnotic trance as a good example of

548 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

psychic inertia, in that phase of it in which profound anesthesias
and analgesias are developed so remarkably and so mys-
teriously.

THE ORIGIN OR GENESIS OF FUNCTIONAL INERTIA

All the properties or powers of living matter are not pos-
sessed exclusively by living matter. Certain properties or
powers are characteristic of living matter and are not pos-
sessed by matter that is not living. Thus, the powers of repro-
duction, digestion and assimilation, are characteristic of living
matter and are not shared by matter that has not ever lived.
Crystals, for instance, do not reproduce themselves, nor can
they incorporate material dissimilar from their own substance ;
but it is just these things that living beings can do. The
“orowth” of a crystal has nothing in common with the
“orowth” of an organism except the name.

Non-living matter is, however, affectable; if by affecta-
bility we mean the power of responding to a stimulus. Thus,
gunpowder is highly affectable towards a spark, in that it will
respond to such by an explosion, that is, it will convert violently
its potential chemical energy into the kinetic forms of heat,
light, sound and molecular disruption. Gunpowder, therefore,
has affectability towards sparks as “stimuli.” But gunpowder
will not be exploded by concussion; it has, therefore, inertia
towards concussion as a stimulus; if it is the “function” of
gunpowder to explode, then it has “ functional” inertia towards
concussion, but high affectability towards sparks.

Affectability and functional inertia are possessed by such
kinds of non-living matter as are designed to transform energy
that is, to perform functions. Another example may be taken
in the case of cordite; if it is the function of cordite to explode,
then it has affectability towards concussion which causes it to
explode, but it presents functional inertia towards sparks, which
merely make it burn, but not explode.

It is, therefore, highly probable that just as the affectability
of living matter is foreshadowed by that of non-living matter,
so physiological inertia is foreshadowed by the inertia of non-
living molecules.

As a pure speculation, protoplasmic inertia may be assumed
to have been evolved from the molecular inertia of non-living
matter and in particular from that of the carbon atom. Pro-
fessor J. C. Bose, of Calcutta, has contrived to demonstrate in
non-living matter such phenomena as latent period, post-stimu-

PHYSIOLOGICAL INERTIA 549

lant effects, and fatigue, on the one hand, as well as staircase
responses, summation of effects, diphasic electrical variation,
the results of varying temperatures and of different poisons, on
the other. Such results are due to the existence of molecular
inertia and of affectability respectively in the non-living mech-
anisms with which he worked.

Affectability and functional inertia are, therefore, not dif-
ferentiae of living matter in the sense that the powers of repro-
duction, assimilation and excretion are. Only living matter
can grow (metabolise) and reproduce itself, but both non-living
matter and living matter can, under certain circumstances, re-
spond to a stimulus, and under others, refuse or fail to do so.

Molar and molecular inertia are universal properties in that
they are possessed by all forms of matter and by all mechan-
isms whether living or non-living which have the power of
transforming energy.

Functional or physiological inertia is a property of all living
matter (bioplasm) not merely by way of analogy with the
inertia of non-living molecules, but because in its genesis such
a property must have been derived from the fundamental prop-
erty of non-living matter.

550 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE WHITE MAN’S MAGIC IN HOMER

By JONATHAN WRIGHT, M.D.

N a previous essay which, as it was, occupied too much space
if in this journal (December, 1918), there was especially
one aspect of the subject of the foundations of belief of primi-
tive men to which I wished to give greater extension, but which
I was obliged to pass over with a mere allusion. It was in
sequence to the assertion that ‘all students of the dawn of
history—all those who have pried into the practical life and the
esoteric life of the ancient Oriental civilizations, so far as their
details before the Trojan War have been revealed to us, feel
that with the advent of the northern races around the Avgean
Sea something almost cataclysmic happened in the smooth
course of the progress of thought and emotional life, in philos-
ophy and art and religion.”

As to medicine, the remark has been made by others doubt-
less, but it impressed me much at first, that in the works of
Hippocrates we find about as little of primitive magic as we do
in the most recent professional works of modern medicine.
It helps us to realize how high was that civilization from which
Hippocrates drew his inspiration, the culture that had been
evolved by Thales and Anaximander, by Heraclitus and Demo-
eritus in science and which was adorned, as no other civiliza-
tion had been before or has been since, by Plato and Aristotle,
by A®schylus and Euripides, by Pindar and Anacreon, by
Phidias and by Praxiteles in philosophy and art. When the full
realization of the glory of Greece is borne in upon us we no
longer wonder at the remoteness of Hippocratic medicine
from the charms and the incantations of Malay Magic and
African ju-ju.

Elsewhere I trust I shall have an opportunity of tracing
back from Hippocrates through Empedocles and Alcmzon
some of the primitive traits recognizable in the fragments of
the nature philosophers in connection with the earlier thought
to be found in the Zend Avesta and the Rig Veda and even in
Homer. To a certain extent these, especially the Zoroastrian
and the Hindu Epics, are stepping stones back along the path
to the Papyros Ebers and the Poem of Gilgamesh, but with
these we need not here concern ourselves.

THE WHITE MAN’S MAGIC IN HOMER 551

I wish here to dwell a little upon the assertion frequently
made by many more recondite authors, but most popularly set
forth in the attractive works of Leaf and Mahaffy and Murray
and the many essays of other facile writers on Greek archeol-
ogy, that there is little magic in Homer, scarcely anything in
the Iliad at least. In the previous essay alluded to I have
pointed out that we understand the ancient Greek because a
part of his blood or at least his culture had come down to us
from the western and northern slopes of the Alps before
modern research studied it in the remains of ancient Greece.
His methods of thought, his poetry and his dramatic art are
familiar to us on this account, but we look down the paths of
the black race, so intimately in touch with the civilization of
the Mediterranean peoples before the first millennium B.c., and
they are dark to us. Neither the black magic nor the white
magic of the black man appeals to us at all as art in poetry or
as logical in philosophy.

As we read the Homeric poems, possibly taking shape from
the traditions of the people at a date ranging from the ninth or
tenth to the seventh century before our era, we find very little
indeed which we can assimilate with Oriental magic, the magic
of the Malay or the African in his native jungles. We can find
some explanation of its absence in the consideration that while
the Iliad deals professedly with events which modern arche-
ology places at least as early as the beginning of the first
millennium B.C., they manifestly could only be expected to re-
veal those ideas and ideals, customs and manners and ways of
thought familiar to the stage of culture in which they were
written, extending well into a period of civilization in the Medi-
terranean basin, which was far removed, whatever its origin,
from that of primitive man. Nevertheless, we have every rea-
son to believe that at some period of the Hellenic culture there
must have existed a state of art and thought which might fairly
come within the definition of primitive. That this stage of
social evolution antedated the first millennium B.C. might easily
account for the absence of magic in Homer as it does in Hippo-
crates, but, so far as I have been able to remark, archeological
investigation reveals plenty of primitive magic in Greece later
than the date of the Trojan War.

There is, however, an argument which the attentive reader
of the Iliad and the Odyssey may gain from the poems them-
selves. All critics bear out the statements, frequently made by
philologists and antiquarians, that the Odyssey is of a later
authorship than the Iliad, perhaps two or three hundred years

552 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

later. Now, it is precisely in the Odyssey that we are able to
take notice of traces of magic to which modern ethnologists
and archeologists have for many years constantly drawn atten-
tion. According to Abbott,1 speaking of the Epic Cycle, the
whole series of the Trojan poems, including the Jliad and
Odyssey, is as follows:

1. The Cypria, of which the authorship is doubtful. Some considered
it the work of Stasinus of Cyprus; others attributed it to Hegesias, or
Hegesinus, of Salamis in Cyprus; others, again to Homer.

2. The Iliad.

3. The 4’thiopia, by Arctinus of Miletus.

4. The Little Iliad, by Lesches of Mitylene.

5. The Capture of Ilium, by Arctinus of Miletus.

6. The Nosti, by Agias of Trozen.

7. The Odyssey.

8. The Telegonia, by Eugammon of Cyrene.

In this series each poem takes up the story where the preceding poem
ends. The same incidents are not repeated in any two of them, with some
slight exceptions. ... From the nature and construction of the Cyclic
poems we were inclined to draw the inference that they were composed
after the Iliad and Odyssey, and our conclusion is confirmed by what we
know of the incidents recorded in them.

The great German critic Wolff made the assertion it has
been difficult to refute that no texts of Homer or the Epic
Cycle with which we are familiar existed before Alexandrian
times.

Miss Harrison? perhaps makes use of her own notes when

The ghosts in the Nekuia of the Odyssey “ drink the black blood ” and
thereby renew their life; but in ceremonies of purification they demand
polluted water, the “ offscourings,” and why? The reason is clear. The
victim is a surrogate for the polluted suppliant, the blood is put upon him
that he may be identified with the victim, the ghost is deceived and
placated.

She also draws attention to the passage in Hecuba of Euri-
pides in regard to a matter which has its own interests for us.
she says that

In the Hecuba of Euripides, Neoptolemos takes Polyxena by the hana
and leads her to the top of the mound, pours libations to his father, pray-
ing him to accept the “soothing draughts,” and then cries:

Come thou and drink the maiden’s blood
Black and unmixed.

I can not pretend to say that the thought here can be any-
thing but the assumption that Achilles’ ghost may absorb

1 Abbott, Evelyn, “ History of Greece,’ New York, G. P. Putnam’s
Sons, 1888, pt. 1.

2 Harrison, Jane Ellen, “ Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Re-
ligion,”’ Cambridge Univ. Press, 1903.

THE WHITE MAN’S MAGIC IN HOMER 558

enough of the vital energy to allow him to go comfortably to
join the shades below—a journey which in life he had no taste
for, saying he would rather be the humblest slave on earth than
associate with such unsubstantial company. Nevertheless,
though it may have no meaning of sympathetic magic it is easy
to see that the “blood is the life.” It was not only human
blood that was grateful to the ghosts. Odysseus in the Odyssey
(XI., 25-50) says, according to the translation of Butcher
and Lang,
when I had besought the tribes of the dead with vows and prayers, I took
the sheep and cut their throats over the trench, and the dark blood flowed
forth, and lo, the spirits of the dead that be departed gathered there from
out of Erebus. Brides and youths unwed, and old men of many and evil
days, and tender maidens with grief yet fresh at heart; and many there
were, wounded with bronze-shod spears, men slain in fight with their
bloody mail about them. And these many ghosts flocked together from
every side about the trench with a wondrous cry,
but he would not let them approach. In the Odyssey there is
no sacrifice as in the Iliad of young men and maids. Human
sacrifices, I think, can hardly be demonstrated always to be
associated with or to be a relic of cannibalism, but since the
latter practise is only of secondary interest we may turn to
that form of it which was associated with homeopathic magic,
the predecessor in human thought of the doctrines of Hahne-
mann. It is not only savage vengeance which Achilles breathes
forth as he sees Hector, his prostrate foe, gasping at his feet—
it is not only of his friend Patroclus, who fell by Hector’s hand,
that he thinks, it is ardent admiration for Hector’s virtues
which he supposes can be thus absorbed. Chapman’s transla-
tion® runs thus:

I would to God that any rage would let me eat thee raw,

Slie’t into pieces, so beyond the right of any law

I taste thy merits!
This, though in the Iliad, is primitive enough. This is an
indiscriminate appetite for all the virtues, but we can easily
find indications that the passions have different seats. “Life,”
for which we can nearly always substitute “soul” as the con-
ceptions if not identical are usually confused, we easily find in
the blood.

While it is necessary to differentiate the historical, the
archeological Troy from Homeric Troy, chiefly we are con-
cerned with Homer, or rather with a number of Homers travel-
ing up and down the littoral of Asia Minor for two or three

3 Chapman, George, “ The Iliads of Homer,” tr. according to the Greek,
by George Chapman.

554 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

hundred years after the catastrophe at Troy. So far as we can
make out, most of the six or more cities, which were erected at
different widely separated epochs on the site of Priam’s city,
were built there for—not to use a harsh word—commercial
purposes—to levy toll on the merchandise which could not get
through the rushing tide of the Bosphorus. Anger naturally
arose among the people who would have liked to pass their
mule trains overland free of tax, so successive cities rose and
fell where Schliemann only looked for the one Homer wrote
about. Now to suppose that such a center for all the roaring
trade of the ancient civilizations, with the Black Sea outskirts
of the Agean, knew nothing of Babylonian magic is not reason-
able. It was a cosmopolitan city even on Homer’s showing.
Diverse tribes were here allies. Memnon, a black man of the
plains, married a light-haired woman from the mountains and
led a dusky contingent to Troy. Hecuba, Priam’s queen, was
Phrygian. A piece of jade from far-away China was one of
the things found in the ruins, etc. The latter perhaps is the
most suggestive, because it is best authenticated. We might
discard half the myths that point to the political status of
ancient Troy, as archeologists now conceive it and there would
still be left a respectable number. The persistence of the repe-
titions of city building on that site looking out over the Helles-
pont at the baffled vessels trying to stem the current which has
upset the calculations of the master pilots on the super dread-
noughts of our day, presses for the obvious interpretation.
That stone which only China can furnish speaks volumes.

At Troy there are the remains of no less than six cities one above the
other. There was a great city there in 2000 B.c., the second of the series.
Even in the second city there was discovered a fragment of white nephrite,
a rare stone not found anywhere nearer than China, and testifying to the
distance which trade could travel by slow and unconscious routes in early
times.4

So if Homer was ignorant of Babylonian magic or even of
Malay magic it is because these particular varieties did not
leave the caravans much, that wore the paths across Syria or
the ships that passed by sea along her shore, not because
oriental magic was not known to the real Trojans. There were
things about Troy Homer did not know or that his audience
were not interested in.

In the Iliad Homer wrote for those not interested in, and
he himself there shows himself not much concerned with the

4 Murray, Gilbert, “ Rise of the Greek Epic,” Oxford, Clarendon Press,
1911.

THE WHITE MAN’S MAGIC IN HOMER 555

black man’s magic, except as it concerned drugs. It would
seem, however, if they had their knowledge of drugs from
Egypt, they must have had to take with them much of the magic
which rendered them efficacious, but Nestor in the Iliad said
he had met in his youth Agamede and she, though not an Egyp-
tian, “knew all drugs that the world nourisheth” (XI., 739).
We may be privileged to doubt this, but we can see in the verse
at least the indication that woman among the primitive Greeks
took as naturally to herbs as she did among the hardy frontiers
men in our early times. In the Odyssey, however, we find the
fair Helen mixing a potion for Telemachus, in which some com-
mentators see a hint of opium from Egypt, for

she cast a drug into the wine whereof they drank, a drug to lull all pain
and anger, and bring forgetfulness of every sorrow. Whoso should drink
a draught thereof, when it is mingled in the bowl, on that day he would
let no tear fall down his cheeks, not though his mother and his father died,
not though men slew his brother or dear son with the sword before his
face, and his own eyes beheld it. Medicines of such virtue and so helpful
had the daughter of Zeus, which Polydamna, the wife of Thon, had given
her, a woman of Egypt, where earth the grain-giver yields herbs in greatest
plenty, many that are healing in the cup, and many baneful. There each
man is a leech skilled beyond all human kind; yea, for they are of the race
of Peon. (Odyssey IV., 280.)5

Where Circe’s enchanted isle was we do not know, but the
metamorphoses of the friends of Odysseus into swine and the
love philters make us think it may have been an appendage of
some Oriental country. At least we can see in the incident the
bent of mind of the Mediterranean race rather than northern
transformations. Eurylochus tells him:

Thy company yonder in the hall of Circe are penned in the guise of
swine, in their deep lairs abiding. Is it in hope to free them that thou art
come hither? Nay, methinks, thou thyself shalt never return but remain
there with the others. Come, then, I will redeem thee from thy distress,
and bring deliverance. Lo, take this herb of virtue, and go to the dwelling
of Circe, that it may keep from thy head the evil day. And I will tell thee
all the magic sleight of Circe. She will mix thee a potion and cast drugs
into the mess; but not even so shall she be able to enchant thee; so helpful
is this charmed herb that I shall give thee, and I will tell thee all.
(Odyssey X., 275.) “Therewith the slayer of Argos gave me the plant
that he had plucked from the ground, and he showed me the growth
thereof. It was black at the root, but the flower was like to milk. Moly
the gods call it, but it is hard for mortal men to dig; howbeit with the gods
all things are possible.”

She had so overcome his comrades with
“a mess of cheese and barley-meal and yellow honey with Pramnian wine,

5 Butcher and Lang, “The Odyssey of Homer,’ done into English
prose by S. H. Butcher, M.A., and A. Lang, M.A.

556 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and mixed harmful drugs with the food to make them utterly forget their
own country.”

So the commentators again think of Egypt and opium and
we may think at least in the Odyssey of Oriental magic. In-
deed the story has been traced to Babylon,® but it is not neces-
sary for us to believe it was anything but an indigenous story
of the brown race.

The myth of the Harpies is told in connection with Phineus,
the son of Agenor, one of the Homeric heroes, but though placed
later than the Iliad, one of them is mentioned there (XVI., 150).
I do not know as to the authenticity and the chronology of this
passage, but in Hesiod and Theognis they appear. I think there
can be no doubt they are lineal descendants of the creatures
that carried the souls of Pharaoh’s dead subjects around their
tombs. They have only the incidental interest for us that we
feel in the idea of the winged soul, the pneuma, the spiritual
aspirations of man, the uplift of man to higher things, etc., but
here they have an interest in bearing the impress of Mediter-
ranean magic, perhaps combined with some northern myth, for
Podarge, one of the three, was the dam of Achilles steeds sired
by the West Wind. Other hints incidentally appear even in the
Homeric epics of this intrusion of Mediterranean magic.

So far as we have gone on our own path it is evident that
Keller’ is justified in his conjecture that it is
with Phoenicians and their tales are probably to be associated the monsters
of Homer: the Chimaera, a composite of lion, serpent, and goat, slain by
the hero Bellerophon, the Gorgon’s head, Scylla and Charybdis, the Sirens,
etc., as well as the savage tribes so vaguely located about the world.

A small amount doubtless was imported magic, a certain
amount the northmen brought with them, a certain amount
they found indigenous in the A{gean area which may have been
specific to certain localities, but we can scarcely go far wrong
in believing that much the larger amount was a magic common
to all primitive men at the stage of culture represented by
Homer’s Greeks. One of these traits we know is homeopathic
or sympathetic magic, a very comprehensive division, yet so far
as it is to be noted in affiliation with medicine it is scarcely to
be found. We have seen Achilles desiring to eat Hector’s flesh
in order to get the virtues of his foe, but it is in the story of
Telephus, which seems to have been preserved chiefly by Strabo,
we get the most perfect exemplification of it. Euripides wrote

6“ Wneyclopedia Brittanica,” Article —, “ Circe,” 11th ed.

7 Keller, Albert Galloway, “‘ Homeric Society,” Lengman, Green & Co.,
New York, 19138.

THE WHITE MAN’S MAGIC IN HOMER 557

a play from the legend which had been lost. Plutarch®
(“ Morals,” Vol. I., 289), Pliny? (XXXIV., 15) and Cicero”
(Pro L. Flacco C., 29) and Pausanias™ all refer to it. He
married one of Priam’s daughters, but he does not appear in
any of the texts of the Homeric poems which have come down
to us. He was severely wounded by Achilles and finally on the
advice of an oracle came to Greece and presented himself to
Achilles, who healed him by applying to the wound scrapings
of the spear with which the wound had been inflicted. Pre-
sumably the legend grew out of the Homeric poems by the
influence of a magic which it is hard to believe was not preva-
lent in Homeric medicine, and Grote’? remarks that Strabo
pays little attention to any portion of the Trojan war not
found in the Homeric poems proper, and appears not to have
read Arktinus, but he may have derived it from some equally
ancient author. At any rate, even in the Roman development
of Greek medicine it was a spur to homeopathic practise.
Philostratus'* tells how Apollonius cured a boy from a mad
dog’s bite, by sending the dog into the river and so curing it,
whereon the bitten boy also recovered. ‘He said: ‘ The soul of
Telephus of Mysia has been transferred into this boy, and the
Fates impose the same things upon him as upon Telephus.’”

We are thrown therefore by the internal evidence of the
poems themselves on the assumption that the author of the
Iliad wrote in an atmosphere appreciably different from that
of the author of the Odyssey. Quite independent of this in-
ternal evidence is the view that as northern blood poured into
the Mediterranean area and gave it, at some date before the
rise of the highest culture in Greece, a hue derived from another
clime, cosmic influences, including that of disease, was at once
at work to tap this foreign stream and finally to banish it
through its lack of adaptation to the environment. Gradually
the Northman died out and the Mediterranean race and its
culture, at first submerged by the invasion, came again into
itsown. The date of the fourteenth century B.c. finds Egyptian
influence still dominant on the mainland of Greece, or rather

8 Plutarch, “ How to Profit by our Enemies,” Morals: Tr. from the
Greek by Wm. W. Goodwin, 1820, Vol. 1, 289.

9 Plinii, C., “ Secundi: Naturales Historie,” Lib. 11, XXXVII., Sect.
70, Silig, p. 300.

10 Cicero, “ De Natura deorum,” III., 22. Teubner, 1890, pt. 4, Vol. 2.

11 Pausanias, “ Description of Greece,” tr. by J. G. Frazer, London,
Macmillan & Co., 1898.

12 Grote, George, “ History of Greece,’ Part 2, Ch. 15.

13 Philostratus, “ Flavius: The Life of Apollonius of Tyana,” tr. by F.
C. Conybeare, Vol. 2, Bk. 6, p. 148, London, Wm. Henilmann, 1912.

558 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

we are to suppose that it was more properly an AXgean than a
strictly Egyptian culture. Sir Arthur Evans“ of late has
shown himself more and more inclined to limit the antiquity of
the Northmen in the A#gean to some such epoch, for it is not
the yellow-haired men but the brown-complexioned race, or the
red men with high artistic capacities which are shown in the
wall pictures, and he intimates that this artistic temperament
was due to the blood of the Mediterranean race which finally
predominated in the Agean. The light-skinned people evi-
dently came in and conquered in battle, but in the long run the
race which had the traditions of African magic in its heredity
came to the surface. “It is true that the problem would be
much simplified if we could accept the conclusion that the rep-
resentatives of the earlier Minoan civilization in Crete and of
its Mycenzan outgrowth on the mainland were themselves of
Hellenic stock.” There is nothing which now seems improb-
able much less impossible in this commonly accepted view, but
it lacks desirable confirmation.

Doubtless some of these elements, notably in Crete, were absorbed by
later Greek cult, but their characteristic form has nothing to do with
the traditions of primitive Aryan religion. They are essentially non-
Hellenic.

The period during which these Northmen were dominant
begins according to Evans not earlier than the twelfth century
and even in Hesiod’s Theogony, five hundred years later, we
find the trace of Set, Horus and Osiris in the spirit if not in the
literal similarity of the myths. There is, it must be confessed,
considerable ground for Evans’ remark that “in the end, though
the language was Greek, the physical characteristic of the later
Hellenes prove that the old Mediterranean element showed the
greater vitality.” It was the brown race largely tinctured
with the ideas of the African and the Asiatic. Enough has
now been said to begin the attempt at the differentiation of the
white man’s magic from that of the brown man and the black
man, the yellow man and the red man.

When we find the African chief soliciting the aid of invisible
powers by hanging various articles on a blasted tree trunk or
muttering words we do not understand to his block of wood or
pieces of stone, we say this is magic. "When we see in a Greek
facade figures pleasing to our eyes grouped in what is to us
artistic fashion, around a graceful altar from which the smoke
of slaughtered goats ascends to heaven with that of the faggots
of the fire, we say this is art.

14 Evans, Arthur J., “ The Minoan and Mycenzan Element in Helenic
Life,” Journal of Hellenic Studies, 1912, Vol. 32, pp. 277, 287.

THE WHITE MAN’S MAGIC IN HOMER 559

When the African chief’s medicine man tells him of the
strange creature with horns and great round red eyes which his
incantations have raised from the river’s mud, we say this is
magic, but when we read of the gray-eyed Athena plucking one
of her heroes by the sleeve or by the hair invisible to all eyes
but his, we say this is poetry, and when the details of hair and
garment folds, of blowing winds and clouds in the sky are
sketched for us, we say this is realism. Now I do not know
what the evolved African chief or the Malay prince might say
it is, with only his social heredity behind him, but I suspect he
would say, why this is magic. Now I imagine something of
this kind of subjectivity troubles our Homer critics. They can
not shake off from themselves their social heredity. The vari-
ous epiphanies of gods and goddesses on the battle field or in
council have their “magic” for us, but we usually say “‘ charm”
and with the connotation of the two words we should set our-
selves right. When Athena brushes aside like troublesome
flies, the spears and arrows aimed at her protégé, we don’t
think at all of negro “magic” but of the “ charm” of the white
man’s poet. Of course I might continue indefinitely thus to
outline from the incidents in the Homeric poems illustrations of
the reason I conceive why the northman critic finds so little
magic in the northman poet’s lines. This might be interesting
but it would be exhaustive of space, and the chief thing for us
in the lesson I am endeavoring to shadow forth is that it was
northern magic, it was a new race coming in and remaining
undefiled by southern magic for awhile that makes the northern
eritic, unable to pull himself up by his boot straps, unable to see
the magic of his ancestor. There is some magic which we
recognize as such in the Iliad and much more in the Odyssey
and were we to add to it the magic we do not recognize on ac-
count of its “charm” the balance sheet between the African or
Malay ledger and that of the Scythian from beyond the Danube
would not show great discrepancy in the totals.

If there is a flaw in this argument, and I suppose there must
be many of them, it is as to medical magic. Where are the in-
cantations and the invocations, the beating of the tom-tom, the
swinging of censers and the general chase after the soul and
the flight from the disease devils and demons of Babylonia and
Malaysia, the witches of the Congo and the Nile? There are
not many of them in the Iliad and the Odyssey does not swarm
with them as do the Zend Avesta and the Atharva Veda. But
the malicious northern demons of disease are not there either
and it really seems as though the argument I have adduced, if

560 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

it is worth anything at all, is applicable rather to magic in gen-
eral than to medical magic. To this the answer is that neither
the Iliad nor the Odyssey is a hospital history book nor the
records of the health office, both phenomena of a static common
wealth when we find them on our book shelves. These poems
are annals of war and the itinerary of an adventurous traveller,
full of wiles and lies but not interested even in surgery beyond
wounds by sea and land and the occasional pestilence which
halts the march of armies and is the stoled priest’s business
anyhow. The Atharva Veda and the Zend Avesta are the
priests’ own books, the Iliad and the Odyssey are those of the
warrior and the soldier of fortune.

We may perhaps see in the Iliad in the sacrifice of horses
attributed to the Trojans by Achilles (XXI., 181), a custom
Xerxes followed when he passed the Nine Ways on his invasion
to Greece as told by Herodotus (VII., 112), the same sacrifice
being repeated by Mithridates and Sextus Pompeius," but we
may conjecture this was a custom the Northmen, including the
Aryans, acquired before they entered the basin of the Medi-
terranean.

To the attentive reader of the Rig Veda which is claimed
as more distinctly Aryan in origin and feeling it, like the Iliad,
will seem to hold little we call magic and much we call charm
or poetry. The Atharva Veda, a much later composition, is
full of magic. In the argument as I have presented it for the
Greek poems, the Vedic hymns would furnish parallel evidence.

15 Seymour, Thomas Day, “ Life in the Homeric Age,’ New York, The
Macmillan Co., 1914.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 561

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION:

By Professor JAMES HENRY BREASTED

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

FROM THE OLD STONE AGE TO THE DAWN OF CIVILIZATION. III

‘ UCH forces gradually brought about the union of two states
on the Nile: in the north a kingdom of the delta commonly
known as Lower Egypt; and in the south a kingdom of the
valley above the delta, which we usually call Upper Egypt. The
kingdom of Upper Egypt was evidently the older. Side by side
the two existed for centuries, each gaining its own traditions,
symbols and insignia which survived in historic times for thou-
sands of years. In early dynastic reliefs like Fig. 41, we see

Fic. 41. TRIUMPH OF A PHARAOH AT THE BEGINNING OF THE DYNASTIC AG! On
the right, the king wears the white crown of Upper Egypt: on the left (top scene,
left end) he wears the spiral-crowned diadem of Lower Egypt Relief scenes on a
magnificent ceremonial palette of slate. (From Quibell, ** Hierakonpolis."’)

the tall white crown worn by the prehistoric kings of Upper
Egypt, and also the curious spiral-crowned red diadem which
regularly distinguished the King of Lower Egypt. In a pre-
historic struggle which must have gone on for generations, the
king of Upper Egypt, he of the tall white crown, conquered his

VOL vil.—36.

d62 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

northern rival of Lower Egypt, him of the curious red crown,
and united Egypt under one sovereignty. Thus probably not
more than a century after the middle of the fourth millennium
B.C., emerged the first great state in history. In commemora-
tion of his double sovereignty over the two prehistoric king-
doms, the Pharaoh, as we may begin to call him, assumed and
wore the crowns of both states, as we see this king here doing
on two different occasions. It is interesting to find him still
wearing the symbol of his hunting ancestry—the tail of a wild
animal appended to his girdle behind.

Such monuments as these show us how the prehistoric Egyp-
tian system of picture signs was developing into phonetic writ-
ing. The victory of this king over the enemy symbolized by
this single adversary whom he is shown dispatching (Fig. 41,
right-hand relief), is commemorated in an archaic pictographic
group over the head of the captive. The falcon (here with a
human arm) is an enormously old symbol of the prehistoric
ruler of upper Egypt. Knowing this, we easily read the group;
for it will be noticed that the falcon grasps a rope by which he
leads a captive suggested by a numan head with the rope fast-
ened to the mouth. This head rises out of a stretch of level
ground out of which are growing six lotus leaves on tall stems
each the symbol for 1000. Just below is a single barbed har-
poon, and a small rectangle filled with wavy lines of water,
meaning a pool or lake. The meaning of the whole is clear:
“The Falcon King has led captive 6,000 men of the Land of the
Harpoon Lake.” The further process by which these purely
picture signs became phonetic, furnishing the earliest known
system of phonetic writing, is now fairly clear to us, but space
will not permit its discussion here. It should be mentioned,
however, that before 3000 B.c. this system of Egyptian writing
developed a complete series of consonantal alphabetic signs, and
there is now no reason to doubt that the Phcenician alphabet,
and hence likewise our own, have descended from the picture
writing of Egypt which we have just read. This question will
be taken up more fully in discussing the Phoenicians.

It is of importance at this point to remember that the ex-
clusively Nilotic origin of Egyptian writing is easily demon-
strable. In view of this fact it is quite inexplicable that there
should have been a wide-spread impression that it was of
Asiatic origin. In the first place our oldest examples of Egyp-
tian writing are older than the earliest known writing of Asia.
Furthermore Egyptian writing is a veritable zoological and
botanical garden of fauna and flora unmistakably Nilotic,
while it includes also an extensive museum of implements, ap-

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 563

pliances, weapons, clothing, adornments, buildings, etc., pecu-
liar to the Nile valley. Only lack of acquaintance with the
material background of Egyptian life, and a failure to study
carefully the content of the Egyptian sign lists, can account for
the totally groundles assertion of the Asiatic origin of Egyptian
writing by Hommel and de Morgan, which has unfortunately
found its way into many current books. As his writing devel-
oped, the Egyptian at the same time devised the earliest known
paper, which he succeeded in making from the papyrus reed

A

$)44)-

Par

ra

Aika?

IAW Dap

<i
8

Faz 2
2s E
ELE S

4

By

wal
TS Yes

sb
\ ul
Re
£

tris

Fig. 42. SPECIMEN OF HEGYPTIAN PAPYRUS PAPER, CONTAINING PART OF A TALB
WRITTEN NEARLY 2000 B.c. Now in the Berlin Museum.

(Cyperus papyrus), a plant which grew very plentifully in the
Nile marshes (Fig. 42). It has especial interest for us, be-
cause it was the first paper used by Europe, and as we shall see,
this paper brought to Europe an alphabet which had grown up
out of the system of Egyptian hieroglyphic of which we have
just been speaking.

Thus emerged the first great organization of men, efficient
in the possession of a system of written records and communi-
cation, and stably founded on a basis of agriculture and cattle
breeding, prepared to exploit to the full the possession of metal
tools. It was now that the kingship proved invaluable in fur-
nishing the powerful organization for mining on a large scale
which private initiative could not have furnished. The source
of copper was in the Peninsula of Sinai.

Berthelot has remarked’? how interesting it is, that prob-
ably at the beginning of the exploitation of these mines of

20 Sur les mines de cuivre du Sinai,” Comptes rendus de l’Académie
des Sciences, 19 Aug., 1896.

564 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 44. ONE OF THE EARLY COPPER MINES IN SINAI WORKED BY THE ANCIENT
EGYPYIANS. (Photograph by Petrie.)

Sinai, that is over six thousand years ago, by an empiricism the
origin of which is easy to conceive, man had already gained the
processes for smelting metal, which have been followed ever
since even down into our own day. Only recently have the
metallurgical chemists succeeded in devising processes more
successful and efficient than those which were first devised in
Sinai over six thousand years ago.

This remark of Berthelot’s justifies us in picturing the ex-
perience of some wandering Egyptian back in the fifth millen-
nium B.C. as he banked his fire with pieces of copper ore which
happened to be lying about his camp—part of the talus and
detritus which encumbers the base of the cliffs in the lonely
valleys of Sinai. As these natural fragments were exposed to
the fire, the charcoal of the wood blaze, together with the heat,
reduced a portion of the ore, and we can easily imagine how
the attention of the wanderer would be attracted by a glittering
globule of the liberated metal as it rolled out among the ashes.

The new age of mankind born on that memorable day was
beginning to enter on its birthright, when centuries later the
Egyptian monarchy emerged in the middle of the fourth millen-
nium B.c. The metal, which the first Egyptian who possessed
it had gained by accident, was now to be won systematically
and on a relatively large scale, as only the sovereign could do
in that distant age, when individual initiative was unequal to

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 965

the task. In Fig. 44 we see one of the ancient Egyptian mines
in Sinai visible high up on the right. Though this particular
example is not one of the earliest, these mines of Sinaitic
Maghara are the oldest known mines in the world. Below the
mine on a slight elevation at the foot of the slope we see the
stone huts of the miners. A protective wall extends trans-
versely across the valley. Here lived a little colony of miners.
Plentiful evidences of their work are still scattered about the
place. Under the floor of the hut they concealed the pottery
canteen with which they carried on their rough-and-ready
housekeeping, and there Petrie found it in his investigation of
the place (Fig. 45). Their copper tools have likewise been
found covered by rubbish (Fig. 46). The heavy stone picks
which they still employed in getting out the ore, have likewise
been found on the spot (Fig. 47).

The interiors of the mines themselves are very instructive.
The action of the copper tools on the wall of the drift can still
be closely followed and exhaustively examined, even to deter-

Fic. 45. Porrery CANTEEN OF ANCIENT EGYPTIAN MINERS. Found buried under the
floor of their hut in Sinai. (Maghara; photograph by Petrie.)
Fig. 46. CorprerR CHISELS EMPLOYED BY ANCIENT EGYPTIAN MINERS IN SINAI.
(Serabit; photograph by Petrie.)

= >

566 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fig. 47. HbAvY STONE PICKS AND STONE DRILL-HEAD FOUND AT ANCIENT EGYPTIAN
COPPER MINES IN SINAI, (Photograph by Petrie.)

mining the width of the chisel edge (Fig. 48). Though the
mines are not usually large, and do not commonly exceed five
feet in height, Fig. 49 shows a chamber of spacious dimensions.
Space does not permit discussing the methods of freeing and
taking out the ore; but we may glance at the evidences which
disclose the smelting process. It is clear that smelting was
often done directly at the mine. Petrie found the heavy stone
pounders by means of which the ore was crushed (Fig. 50).
Masses of slag have also been uncovered, and in Fig. 51 we see

Fig. 48. WALL SHOWING STROKES OF COPPER CHISEL IN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN COPPER
MINE IN SINAL. (Maghara; photograph by Petrie.)

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 567

a pottery crucible with large nozzle for pouring the molten
metal into forms.**

The copper-bearing minerals which these earliest miners
smelted were chiefly of three kinds: turquoise, containing only
about three and a third per cent. of oxide of copper; a hydro-
silicate of copper; and finally certain granites impregnated
with carbonate and hydrosilicate of copper. These granites
are also poor ore, but the hydrosilicate is sometimes very rich
in copper.””

Fic. 49. INTERIOR OF A LARGE COPPER MIND WORKED BY THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS IN
Srnar. (Serabit; photograph by Petrie.)

The decisive importance of these mines in Sinai is evident
when we understand that they are definitely dated. For over
two thousand years the Pharaohs exploited the Sinai copper
regions and have left their records on the rocks around the
mines to testify to the fact. These records begin in the thirty-
fourth century and continue until the latter part of the twelfth
century B.c. It is not a little impressive at the present day to
see appearing on the rocks before us the figure of the first ruler
of men who has put himself on record as having organized and
sent forth his people to bring out of the earth the metallic re-

21 The above discussion of the ancient mines of Sinai is much indebted

to the text and photographs of Petrie, “ Sinai.”
22 See Berthelot, ibid.

568 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 50. STONH POUNDERS FOR CRUSHING COPPER ORE USED BY THE ANCIENT EGYPT-
IANS IN SINAI. (Photograph by Petrie.)
Fig. 51. PorrerRy CRUCIBLE WITH NOZZLE FOR POURING MOLTEN COPPER INTO
Forms. Found at the ancient copper mines in Sinai. (Serabit; photograph by
Petrie.)

sources without which man could no longer carry on a great
state (Fig. 52).

As we approach we are standing in the presence of the
earliest known historical monument. Carved with rugged and
archaic simplicity, the figure of this earliest royal miner rises
before us in heroic proportions. Here is the earliest sovereign
to follow economic dictates and to march into a neighboring
continent to seize by sole right of might the mineral wealth
which his people needed. Depicted in the symbolic ceremony
of crushing the Bedwi chief of the district, to signify the Egyp-
tian Pharaoh’s possession of the region, this king Semerkhet

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 569

thus published to the natives of western Asia his sovereignty
over the world’s earliest copper mines. He wears here the offi-
cial crowns, the white and the red, which signify his supremacy
over the Two Egypts, a supremacy which he had thus extended
over neighboring Asia in the 34th century B.c. Thus the
earliest known autocracy, seizing the mineral-bearing regions
of Asia which it needed, some 5,300 years ago, began that long
career of aggression based on economic grounds, which con-
tinuing ever since culminated in the seizure of the mineral
wealth of northern France in August, 1914.

This record of Egyptian conquest in metallurgy, let it be
noted, consists of inscriptional as well as sculptured elements.
The name of the king in Egyptian hieroglyphics of unmistakable
Nilotic origin, accompanies his figure, and it is well to remem-
ber that this mining record, made after Egypt had known of
copper for over half a millenium, is nevertheless several cen-
turies older than the oldest dated piece of copper known in Asia.

This earliest family of sovereigns ruling over a people of
several millions was founded about 3400 B.c. by Menes, the
first of the Pharaohs. His home was at Thinis, near Abydos
in Upper Egypt, below the great bend where the river ap-
proaches most nearly to the Red Sea. We call the whole
group the First Dynasty, and together with the second group,
or second Dynasty, these early dynastic kings of Egypt were

Fie. 52. RELIEF CARVED ON ROCKS AT THE ANCIENT EGYPTIAN COPPER MINES
IN SINAI (MAGHARA), IN THE THIRTY-FOURTH CENTURY B.c. It shows the figure of
the earliest known mining promoter, King Semer-khet of Egypt. At the left he
smites a Bedwi chief of the region, while his other two portraits display him once
with the crown of Upper and again with the crown of Lower Egypt. This is the
oldest historical monument known, and the earliest such record of a foreign conquest

on alien soil. (Photograph by Petrie.)

570 THE: SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fie. 54. BrRicK-LINED TOMB CHAMBER OF ONE OF THE HBARLY DYNASTIC KINGS

(ABouT 5400 TO 3000 B.c.) Ar ABYDOS. (Photograph by Petrie.)

buried in the desert behind Abydos, where the wreckage of
nine of their tombs still survives (Fig. 54). After Améli-
neau’s unsuccessful and destructive attempt to excavate these

Fic. 55. Four BRACELETS OF GOLD AND PRECIOUS STONES, STILL ON THE ARM

or A RoyaL LApy. Found by Petrie in one of the early dynastic tombs of Abydos.

(Photograph by Petrie.)

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 571

tombs, we owe the rescue of what was left, to Petrie’s efforts.
He was able to save enough of the palace furniture and other
royal equipment placed in these tombs for the use of the royal
dead in the hereafter, to disclose to us the remarkable prog-
ress of this earliest state in material life, especially in arts, in-
dustries and craftsmanship, during the last four centuries of
the fourth millennium B.c., that is about 3400 to 3000 B.c.

Pic. 56. EGYPTIAN CRANK DRILL INVENTED IN THE EARLY DYNASTIC PERIOD
(ABourT 3400 TO 3000 B.Cc.), THE BARLIEST KNOWN MACHINE. (Drawn by Borchardt
from a hieroglyph.)

The advance in industrial appliances of which the jewelry
in Fig. 55 gives evidence, is illustrated by a very important
device for drilling out stone vessels, which was invented in the
early dynastic period (Fig. 56). It is elaborately drawn for
us in hieroglyphic, in which it became the sign for “ craftsman.”
It. consists of a vertical shaft with a crank attached at the top,
and forked at the base to receive a cutting edge in the form of
a sharp stone. Just below the crank are attached two stone

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 57. EGYPTIAN CRAFTSMEN ENGAGED IN DRILLING OUT STONE VESSELS WITH
THE CRANK DRILL SEEN IN Fic. 56. The scene is taken from a tomb relief. The
hieroglyphs between the two workmen record their conversation. One says: ‘“ This
is a very beautiful vase.’ The other responds: “It is indeed.’ (From de Morgan,
“Recherches sur les origines de l’Egypte,” I.)

weights, like the two balls of a steam governor. These of
course serve as a fly wheel to keep the shaft revolving. Here is
the earliest machine which can fairly be called such. It dis-
plays the earliest known crank or crank-driven shaft. The
result was superb stone vessels and the development of a new
and highly refined craft (Fig. 57).

Stimulated perhaps by his rival who was producing such
beautiful stone vases, the potter at this time also made a great
advance in his ancient art. For ages, since his ancestors of the
lower alluvium, who already lay buried many feet below the
potter’s yard, he had laboriously built up his vessels by hand.
But now he perfected what was perhaps at first merely a re-
volving bench, till it emerged as the familiar potter’s wheel, the
ancestor of the lathe, upon which his clay vessels were now
turned.

Thus before 3000 B.c. Egyptian craftsmen devised two re-
volving machines, involving the essential principle of the wheel,
with a vertical axis; but the wheel as a burden-bearing device
with a horizontal axis (unless as employed in the pulley block?)
did not arise in Egypt. It was first used in Asia. On the basis
of these devices, and a long list of metal tools highly specialized,
there arose a large group of sharply differentiated crafts, among
which was the important art of glaze-making, the forerunner
of the first production of glass. All these crafts were carried
on by the first great body of industrial population known in
history. They were in existence before 3000 B.C.

The great African game preserve at the southeast corner of

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 573

the Mediterranean, which once supported only detached groups
of hunters wandering through the jungle, had become a huge
social laboratory, where these Stone Age hunters had been
transformed first into plowmen and shepherds and then into
handicraftsmen. In the course of this process civilization arose
and gained a stable political basis in the thousand years between
4000 and 3000 B.c.

Thus supported upon an economic foundation of agriculture,
animal husbandry and manufacturing industries, arose the first
great state on the Mediterranean, indeed the first great state
in the world, at a time when all the rest of mankind was still
living in Stone Age barbarism. Such a stable fabric of organi-
zation, under the power of the old falcon chieftain, once ruler
only of Upper Egypt, but now sole head of all the Egyptian
people, had shifted man from a struggle with exclusively natural
forces, into a new arena where he must thenceforth contend
with social forces, and out of his crucible of social struggle
were to issue new values of a different order, like social justice,
the value of right conduct, and hopes of happiness beyond the
grave based upon worthy character—conceptions in which the
Nile dwellers were as far in advance of the world about them
as they were in their conquest of the material world.

This extraordinary forward movement of man before 3000
B.C. in the vicinity of the junction between the two continents,
Africa and Eurasia, could not go on without important effects
on the advance of man in Western Asia. It is evident that here
too man had been pushing forward since Paleolithic times, and
his ultimate progress in the whole region around the eastern
end of the Mediterranean and down the Tigris-Euphrates valley
was to have a profound influence on the career of man in the
Mediterranean and thus upon the course of general human
history.

The chronological relations of the cultures on the Nile and
the Euphrates have not yet been definitely determined. Just
as in the case of Egypt, so with regard to Babylonia, the ex-
cessively remote dates once current have been shown to be un-
tenable. They have been given wide currency by de Morgan
and others. De Morgan bases his conclusions upon two bodies
of evidence. First the chronology once drawn from the written
documents; and second his own excavations at Susa, the lead-
ing town in the old Elamite country on the east of Babylonia.
Dr. King of the British Museum long ago discovered evidence
which showed that the chronology drawn from the written
documents which dated King Sargon of Akkad in the thirty-
eighth century B.C. was impossible. De Morgan’s distinguished

574 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 60. THE RIVER TERRACES OF THE EUPHRATES, LOOKING EASTWARD ACROSS
THH River. About two hundred and fifty miles northwest of Babylon. (Copyright
by Underwood & Underwood. )

countryman, Thureau-Dangin, has only in the last few months
published a conclusive reconstruction, leaving nothing to be
desired in its finality—a reconstruction which places Sargon
well this side of 2800 and our earliest written documents of
Babylonia hardly earlier than the thirty-first century B.C.

As to de Morgan’s earliest periods at Susa, he dates them
by their relative depth, that is by the amount of accumulated
rubbish over them. Such rubbish produced by the detrition or
violent destruction of sun-dried brick buildings, will of course
accumulate at a rate variable from site to site and country to
country, depending on a wide range of height of the buildings,
widely differing thickness of the walls, the varying rapidity of
detrition caused by the differing amount of rainfall and the
uncertain number of the successive violent destructions. Fol-
lowing de Morgan, R. Pumpelly has made similar calculations
for the age of the lower strata in his excavaiions of the ancient
city of Anau in Turkestan. Among other data as a basis, he
took the very slow accumulation of such rubbish in Egypt,
without taking into consideration the difference in rainfall
(Egypt having practically none), the difference in height of
buildings and thickness of walls, and the politically sheltered
situation of Upper Egyptian cities which exposed them to less

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 575
frequent destruction than the cities of Asia.2* Such calcula-
tions have no value.

The development of civilized man on the lower Euphrates
had undoubtedly been going on for ages before the date of his
earliest surviving written documents (thirty-first century B.c.),
but the age of that development has yet to be established; for
unfortunately the prehistoric stages of Babylonian culture have
not yet been recovered.

The river terraces of the Euphrates, such as we see in Fig.
60 overlooking a beautiful island, have not been investigated
geologically, paleontologically or archeologically at all. It is
evident that man dwelt between the Euphrates and the Mediter-
ranean in Paleolithic times. His remains and his stone imple-
ments may therefore lie under and along these Euphrates ter-
races as they do along the Nile. They have indeed been found
in Palestine and along the Phcenician coast, in caves, so strati-
fied as to leave no doubt of their Paleolithic origin. From these
early stages until the earliest written documents on the Baby-
lonian alluvium (about thirty-first century B.c.), we have no
evidence for the course of the development in western Asia.

It is, however, already perfectly clear that while the Nile
valley made the earlier advance, and was the earliest home of
civilization, there was reciprocal influence between the two
early cultures on the Nile and the Euphrates. Thus the mace

Pig. 61. EGYPTIAN AND BABYLONIAN MACE-HEADS OF THE SAME FORM,

23 It may be added that Dr. Hubert Schmidt, the able archeologist
attached to the Anau excavations, dated the oldest remains found there at
about 2000 B.c.

576 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 62. BHGYPTIAN AND BABYLONIAN CYLINDER SEALS OF THE SAME FORM.

head which we find in Egypt far back in the fourth millennium
B.C. is also found along the Euphrates many centuries later
(Fig. 61). Similarly the cylinder seal employed for sealing
clay is found on the Nile centuries earlier than our earliest
Babylonian example of it (Fig. 62). The decorative arrange-
ment of balanced animal figures (Fig. 63), especially with a
human figure in the middle, is found on the Nile well back

Fic. 68. EGYPTIAN AND BABYLONIAN DECORATIVE DESIGNS. Made up of animal
figures balanced antithetically: on either side of a human figure.

.

THE ORIGINS OF CIVILIZATION 577

toward 4000 B.c., and our earliest examples in Babylonia cannot
be dated earlier than the thirty-second century B.c. In such
matters it should be remembered, however, that an inferior
civilization often makes contributions to a superior culture. We
have only to remember the source of tobacco, maize, potatoes
and the like to illustrate this fact. There will, therefore, have
been mutual exchange between the Nile and the Euphrates at a
very remote date, and some of these parallels here exhibited may
be examples of such mutual interchange.

This process created a great Egypto-Babylonian culture
nucleus on both sides of the inter-continental bridge connecting
Africa and Eurasia. It brought forth the earliest civilization
in the thousand years between 4000 and 3000 B.C., while all the
rest of the world continued in Stone Age barbarism or savagery.
Then after 3000 B.c. began the diffusion of civilization from the
Egypto-Babylonian culture center. The best illustration of
what then took place is furnished by our own New World. In
only two places on the globe have men advanced unaided from
Stone Age barbarism to the possession of agriculture, metal and
writing. One of these centers is that which we have been study-
ing here in the Old World; the other is here in the New World.**
Just as the Egypto-Babylonian culture center grew up at the
junction between the two continents, Africa and Eurasia, as the
oldest and the original center of civilization in the Old World,
so here in the New World the oldest and original center of
civilization likewise developed along and on each side of the
inter-continental bridge. The far-reaching labors of a great
group of Americanists have shown clearly that from this cul-
ture center in the inter-continental region of the Western Hemi-
sphere a process of diffusion of civilization went on northward
and southward into the two continents of the New World, and
that process was still going on when the period of discovery and
colonization began. That which we accept as a matter of course
as we study the New World center, was obviously going on for
thousands of years around the Old World center, although a
provincially minded classicism has blinded the world to the
facts. It remains for us in the next lecture, therefore, to follow
the lines of culture diffusion, diverging from the Egypto-Baby-
lonian group and stimulating Europe and inner Asia to rise
from Stone Age barbarism to civilization.

24 See the present writer’s article, “ The Place of the Near Orient in
the Career of Man, and the Task of the American Orientalist” (presiden-

tial address before the American Oriental Society, in Journ. of the Am.
Or. Soc., June, 1919).

VOL. VII.—37

578 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

NATURAL DEATH AND THE DURATION
OF LIFE

By Dr. JACQUES LOEB
THE ROCKEFELLER INSTITUTE FOR MEDICAL RESEARCH

I

HE efforts to prolong life have resulted in a diminution of
the chances of premature death. Nations with ade-
quately developed facilities for medical research and an effi-
cient public health service have practically eliminated smallpox
and typhoid, yellow fever and malaria, and have conquered
rabies, diphtheria, tetanus, and cerebrospinal meningitis. If
this development continues to receive the support it deserves,
the time is bound to come when each human being can be
guaranteed with a fair degree of probability a full duration of
life. But why must we die?

The French encyclopedists of the eighteenth century defined
life as that which resists death. What they meant by this defini-
tion was the fact that as soon as death sets in, the body begins
to disintegrate. They argued correctly that the forces of dis-
integration were inherent in the living body but were held in
check during life. Recent progress in physical chemistry per-
mits us to state that the spontaneous disintegration of the body
which sets in with death (at the proper temperature and proper
degree of moisture) is a process of digestion, comparable to
that which the meat we eat undergoes in our stomach and intes-
tine. The essential feature of digestion is in this case the
transformation of the solid meat into soluble products by two
ferments, pepsin, which exists in the stomach, and trypsin,
which exists in the intestine. The successive treatment of meat
by the two ferments results in the breaking-up of the large
insoluble molecules into the small soluble molecules of amino
acids which are absorbed by the blood and carried to the cells
of the body where they are utilized to build up new solid
cell matter.

These two ferments, pepsin and trypsin, exist not only in
the digestive organs, but in many, and possibly in all living
cells, and the question arises, why they do not constantly digest
and thus destroy our body while life lasts. A tentative answer

NATURAL DEATH 579

to this question has been given by Dernby, who has been able
to show that the cooperation of both ferments is required in
the same cell for the work of destruction, and that this co-
operation of both ferments becomes possible only at a certain
degree of acidity, which cannot be reached in the living body
on account of the constant removal of acid through respiration
and oxidation. When respiration ceases, the degree of acidity
necessary for the digestive action of both ferments in the same
cell is reached, leading to gradual digestion and liquefaction of
the tissues which characterizes the disintegration of the
dead body.

This is not the only cause of disintegration, since the dead
body becomes also the prey of the destructive action of micro-
organisms from the air and in the intestine. During life these
same microorganisms are powerless in their attack on the cells
protected by a normal membrane, but after death this mem-
brane is destroyed and the action of microorganisms can super-
impose itself on that of digestion. It is also probable that the
normal secretions of the mucous membranes during life have
a protective effect.

Death, then, in a human being means the permanent cessa-
tion of respiration. We know that this result can be brought
about by mechanical violence, by poison, and by disease, and,
since nobody can escape all these agencies, doubts have arisen
whether we do not all die from injury or disease, and whether
such a thing as natural death really exists. If there were no
natural death it should be possible to prolong life indefinitely
if a complete protection against disease and accidents could be
secured. It is impossible to make such an experiment in a
human being, since our intestine and our respiratory tract
can not be kept free from microorganisms. The problem has,
however, been solved for certain insects. A Russian author,
Bogdanow, invented a method of obtaining the common house-
fly free from all microorganisms, by putting the newly laid
eggs for a number of minutes into a solution of bichloride of
mercury of sufficient concentration. Most eggs were killed in
the process, but some survived and these were free from micro-
organisms at their surface. By keeping the eggs on sterilized
meat and in sterile flasks, the maggots leaving the egg could
find their food and develop into flies. A French author,
Guyénot, continuing the experiments on the fruit fly, raised 80
successive aseptic generations, and Northrop and the writer
have raised thus far 87 aseptic successive generations of the

580 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fruit fly on aseptic yeast. In these experiments all possibility
of infection, all chances of accidental or violent death were ex-
eluded. To make sure that these flies are absolutely free from
microorganisms, their dead bodies are transferred to culture
media such as are used for the growth of bacteria. If a common
fruit fly is put on such a culture medium, in 24 hours a rapid
growth of microorganisms develops, while the culture medium
on which our aseptic flies were put remained free from all
growth for years (or rather permanently). Aseptic fruit flies,
free from infectious disease and supplied with proper food will,
therefore, not escape death. These experiments, then, indicate
that higher organisms must die from internal causes even if all
chance of infection and all accidents are excluded.

II

These aseptic flies served as a means for testing an idea
concerning the duration of life which presented itself, namely,
that old age and natural death are due either to the gradual
production in the body of a sufficient quantity of harmful or
toxic substances, or to the gradual destruction of substances in
the body required to keep it in youthful vigor, or to both. On
this basis the natural duration of life would be in reality the
time required to complete a chemical reaction or a series of
chemical reactions, resulting in the production of toxic com-
pounds in a quantity sufficient to kill, or resulting in the de-
struction of necessary compounds. Metchnikoff had called at-
tention to the fact that toxic substances were formed in the
intestines under the influence of microorganisms. The intes-
tine of aseptic flies is free from microorganisms, so that the
source for the shortening of life pointed out by Metchnikoff
need not be considered in this case. The toxic substances
formed might be substances formed in one or several organs of
the body during their normal activity. Modern physical chem-
istry furnishes the means of testing such an idea. The period
of time required to complete a chemical reaction diminishes
rapidly when the temperature is raised and increases rapidly
when the temperature is lowered. Exeriments show that the
time required for the completion of a chemical reaction is
doubled or trebled when the temperature is lowered by 10°
centigrade. This influence of temperature upon the rate of
processes of nature seems to be typical for chemical reactions.
If, therefore, the duration of life is the time required for the
completion of certain chemical reactions in the body we might

NATURAL DEATH 581

expect that the duration of life will be doubled or trebled when
we lower the temperature ten degrees centigrade. Such ex-
periments can be carried out only in organisms where acci-
dental death by infection is excluded and our aseptic fruit flies
satisfied this condition. These experiments were made by Dr.
Northrop and the writer, and consisted in putting a number of
newly laid eggs of aseptic flies on an abundance of sterilized
yeast (which is their natural food) in a flask plugged with cot-
ton. These flasks were put into incubators the temperature of
which was kept constant within 0.2 of a degree centigrade.
The temperatures selected for the purpose were 10, 15, 20, 25,
27.5, and 30° C. It is not possible to go into the numerous pre-
cautions which it was necessary to take and the many technical
difficulties involved in this investigation. The result of a large
number of experiments was that the duration of life of such
aseptic flies was a definite one for each temperature, which
means that all the flies died at practically the same age when
kept at the same temperature. Thus, for instance, the total
average duration of life of such flies was 21.15 days at 30° C.
The overwhelming majority died at that age, but a few died a
little earlier and a few a little later. When the number of flies
of a culture which die on successive days is plotted in terms of
percentage of the original number of flies, we get that curve of
death rates usually given in life insurance statistics. But this
curve is very steep in our case owing to the fact that the
majority of flies die at about the same time for a given constant
temperature. The following table gives the average duration
of life of the fly in days for different temperatures.

TABLE I
Temperature, Average Duration of Life of the
°C. Fly from Egg to Death, Days
30 21.15
25 38.5
20 54.3
15 123.9
10 177.5 +2

This table shows that the influence of temperature on the
duration of life of the fly is the same as the influence of tem-
perature on the velocity of a chemical reaction, inasmuch as a
lowering of the temperature by ten degrees results in an in-
crease in the duration of life by two or three hundred per cent.,
and the same figure would be obtained if we investigated the
effect of temperature upon the time required to complete a
chemical reaction. At 30° C. the flies live on an average 21.15

582 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

days and at 20° C. they will live on an average 54.3 days or a
little over twice as long. At 25° they live 38.5 days and at
15° C. 123.9 days or about three times as long. The fruit fly
is a tropical organism and 30° C. is not far from the optimal
temperature. By lowering their temperature twenty degrees
we prolong the duration of their life by nine hundred per cent.
We cannot lower the temperature below 10° since the flies suf-
fer in the chrysalid stage when the temperature becomes 10°
or less. While these are thus far the only experiments on the
duration of life of higher organisms carried out with the neces-
sary scientific precaution, there are many casual observations
mentioned in the literature which suggest that lowering the
temperature prolongs the duration of life of lower animals
in general.

The body temperature of a normal human being is constant,
namely about 35.5° C. and this temperature remains the same
in the tropics and in the arctic regions. Human beings and
most mammals differ in this respect from insects whose tem-
perature is as a rule practically that of their surroundings. If
if were possible to reduce the temperature of human beings and
if the influence of temperature on the duration of life were the
same as that in the fruit fly, a reduction of our temperature
from 37.5 to about 16° would lengthen the duration of our life
to that of Methusaleh; and if we could keep the temperature of
our blood permanently at 7.5° C., our average life would (on
the same assumption) be lengthened from three score and ten
to about 27 times that length, 7.e., to about nineteen hundred
years. Unfortunately our body does not tolerate any consider-
able lowering of its temperature and if it did, life at so low a
temperature would probably become very monotonous and un-
interesting since in all probability sensations of pleasure as
well as pain, of joy and of sadness, would be at a very low level.

The experiments on aseptic flies therefore lend support to
the idea that the duration of our life is the time required for
the completion of a chemical reaction or a series of chemical
reactions. If these reactions consist in the gradual accumula-
tion of harmful products in our body, or in the gradual destruc-
tion of substances required for a youthful condition, we under-
stand why senile decay and death are the natural result of life.

III

Unicellular organisms, like bacteria, alge or infusorians,
seem to be immortal. They reach a certain size, divide into

NATURAL DEATH 583

two, each half growing again to full size and dividing again,
and so on. In this case we may say that it is practically the
same individual which continues to live in the successive gen-
erations. Small pieces of a cancerous tumor can be trans-
planted successfully to other individuals and these pieces grow
again to a large size. This process can also be repeated indefi-
nitely, and it is the same cancer cell which continues to live in
these successive transplantations, as it is the same bacterium
which continues to live in successive generations. In this way
it has been shown that cancers in mice may outlive many times
the natural life of a mouse, in fact they seem to live indefinitely.
Cancer cells may therefore be called immortal as was pointed
out by Leo Loeb many years ago.

It seems that this is true also for certain normal cells like
connective tissue cells. Carrel has isolated connective tissue
cells from the heart of a chick embryo and cultures of these cells
living on the extracts from chick embryos have been kept alive
now for seven years.

All this points to the idea that death is not inherent in the
individual cell, but is only the fate of more complicated organ-
isms in which different types of cells or tissues are dependent
upon each other. In this case it seems to happen that one or
certain types of cells produce a substance or substances which
gradually become harmful to a vital organ like the respiratory
center of the medulla, or that certain tissues consume or destroy
substances which are needed for the life of some vital organ.
The mischief of death of complex organisms may then be traced
to the activity of a black sheep in the society of tissues and
organs which constitute a complicated multicellular organism.

IV

While in human beings there is no sharp limit between youth
and maturity, in many insects and amphibians this limit is
marked by a sudden metamorphosis in the shape of their body.
The frog hatches from the egg as a tadpole without legs and
with a long tail. After a certain length of time legs begin to
grow, the tail disappears, the form of the head and mouth
change, the skin looks different, and the tadpole is transformed
into a frog. It is possible that some of the changes underlying
metamorphosis are due to changes in the circulation of the
blood. Gudernatsch made the remarkable discovery that this
metamorphosis, which in our climate usually occurs during the
third or fourth month of the life of the tadpole, can be brought

584 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

about at will even in the youngest tadpoles, by feeding them
with thyroid gland, no matter from which animal. By feeding
very young tadpoles with this substance, frogs not larger than a
fiy could be produced. Allen added the observation that if a
young tadpole is deprived of its thyroid gland, it is unable
ever to become a frog; and that it remains a tadpole which can
reach, however, a long life and continue to grow beyond the
usual size of the tadpole. When, however, such superannu-
ated tadpoles are fed with thyroid they promptly undergo meta-
morphosis. These observations cleared up an old biological
puzzle. Salamanders also go through a metamorphosis which
is, however, less striking than that of the tadpole of a frog.
In the salamander the metamorphosis consists chiefly in the
throwing off of the gills, and in changes in skin and tail. In
Mexico a salamander occurs which through its whole life main-
tains its tadpole form, namely the axoloti. Attempts to induce
the axolotl to metamorphose failed until after Gudernatsch’s
discovery an investigator fed the axolotl thyroid gland, and this
brought about metamorphosis. The thyroid gland stores the
traces of iodine taken up in our food and it seemed possible that
the iodine contained in the thyroid was the active principle
causing metamorphosis in tadpoles. This was confirmed by
Swingle who succeeded in inducing metamorphosis in tadpoles
by feeding them with traces of inorganic iodine. According to
our present knowledge, the duration of the tadpole stage seems
to be the time required to store the necessary amount of certain
compounds, one of which contains iodine.

Insects, like the fruit fly, hatch from the egg as maggots
which grow at the expense of the food they take up and which,
at a certain age, metamorphose into a chrysalid; and from this
chrysalid at a given time will rise the winged fly. Feeding of
thyroid to the maggots of the fruit fly will not accelerate their
metamorphosis, and we can not yet tell whether in this case
metamorphosis is due to the accumulation or formation of a
definite compound in the body, though this may well be the case.
The idea presented itself whether the duration of the larval or
maggot stage was not also determined by the temperature (pro-
vided the food supply was adequate). We measured, therefore,
the influence of temperature upon the duration of the larval
state in aseptic fruit flies—.e., from the time the egg was laid
until the maggot was transformed into a chrysalid. The influ-
ence was practically identical with that of temperature on the
total duration of life. Thus the larval period lasted 5.8 days at

NATURAL DEATH 585

25° C. and 17.8 days at 15° C., a ratio of about 1:3. The total
duration of life of aseptic flies is 38.5 days at 25° and 123.9 days
at 15° C., also a ratio of about 1:3. We are, therefore, justi-
fied in making the statement that the influence of temperature
upon the duration of the larval period or the youth of aseptic
flies is practically identical with the influence of temperature
on the total duration of life.

Experiments by Uhlenhuth on the influence of temperature
on metamorphosis in salamanders have shown that it is similar
to that observed in flies. Salamanders kept at 25° metamor-
phosed when they were 11 weeks old, while salamanders kept at
15°, under otherwise identical conditions, metamorphosed when
they were 22 weeks old. All these data suggest the possibility
that the duration of life and the duration of the larval period
or of youth are in reality times required for the completion of
definite chemical reactions. The cessation of respiration lead-
ing to the termination of life and the alterations in circulation
leading to metamorphosis or termination of youth are critical
points ; and it seems possible that these points are reached when
a certain toxic substance is formed in adequate quantity in the
body, or when a necessary substance is destroyed or sufficiently
diminished in quantity, or when both conditions are fulfilled.

We can prolong or shorten the period of youth in amphib-
ians not only by modifying the temperature but by withdraw-
ing or offering the specific substance which causes metamor-
phosis, namely iodine or thyroid material. There is no end to
the substances capable of hastening death. Shall we ever find
a substance which will prolong the duration of life? At pres-
ent we can neither deny nor affirm the possibility.

586

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE PRINCIPLE OF RELATIV-
ITY AND THE DEFLECTION
OF LIGHT BY GRAVI-
TATION

CABLE despatches from England
report a joint meeting on November
6 of the Royal Society and the Royal
Astronomical Society, at which Sir
F. W. Dyson, the astronomer royal,
and Dr. A. C. Crommelin, of the
Royal Observatory at Greenwich,
announced that an examination of
the photographic plates taken dur-
ing the solar eclipse of last May
show a deflection of the rays of light
’ from the stars in their passage past
the sun that accords with the theo-
retical degree predicted by Dr. Al-
bert Einstein’s theory of relativity,
namely, 1.7 second of are.

In the solar eclipse of 1918 the
Lick Observatory photographed the
stars in the region immediately sur-
rounding the sun in order to test
the Einstein theory, but the results
seem not to have been published.
There is presumably no question
about the correct measurement of
the English plates. The same re-
sults seem to have been obtained
from the photographs which had
been taken at Sobral in north Brazil
and at the Island of Principi off the
African west coast. Neither does
there appear to be any alternate ex-
planation of the phenomenon. Pro-
fessor H. F. Newall, of Cambridge,
is said to have suggested at the
meeting that it might be due to an
unknown solar atmosphere, further
in extent than had been supposed
and with unknown properties, but it
is not clear how a hypothesis in it-
self unlikely would account for the
deflections, if they are those called
for by the Einstein theory.

It is further the case that the
theory had already been confirmed
by another astronomical fact, the
motion of the planet Mercury, which
accords with the theory of relativity,
but can not be accounted for on the
exact assumptions of Newton’s law
of gravitation. On the other hand,
a shift of the lines in the spectrum
toward red in a strong gravitational
field, which the Einstein theory re-
quires, has been looked for unsuc-
cessfully.

The experiment of the English
astronomers is in itself very simple.
If the rays from the stars are de-
flected by the gravitational field of
the sun, this can not ordinarily be
cbserved, for it is impossible to pho-
tograph them in the sun’s light.
But at the time of a total eclipse
the bright stars, far beyond the sun
but near it in the firmament, can be
photographed, and their apparent
positions can be compared with the
positions of the same stars when
the rays do not pass near the sun.
The change in the apparent positions
of the stars, presumably through de-
dection of their light by gravitation,
can thus be readily measured.

Sir J. J. Thomson, the president
of the Royal Society, is reported to
have said at the meeting that it was
the greatest discovery in connection
with gravitation since Newton enun-
ciated that principle. This in itself
might not mean much, for no dis-
covery in regard to gravitation has
been made since the time of Newton.
But if the results lead to the accept-
ance of the whole theory of relativ-
ity, as developed by Einstein, then
indeed not only our theories of grav-
itation and the ether, but our whole
conception of space, time, mass and

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

motion must be altered more funda-
tnentally than has ever before oc-
curred in the history of science.

A clear account of the theory of
relativity by Professor William Mar-
shall, of Purdue University, will be
found in the MoNnTHLy for May,
i914. Albert Einstein, then em-
ployed in the Swiss patent office,
formulated the theory in 1905 with
remarkable perfection in a_ short
article entitled “Concerning the
electrodynamics of moving bodies.”
In 1911 he published the paper
which deduces the influence of grav-
ity on the propagation of light
which is said now to be confirmed
by the astronomical observations.
Dr. Einstein was appointed to a
chair in the Zurich Polytechnic
School and was later called to one
of the research institutions estab-
lished in affiliation with the Univer-
sity of Berlin.

The Einstein theory may be said
to have had its origin in an effort
to explain the experiment on the
so-called ether-drift, made by Pro-
fessors Michelson and Morley some-
what more than thirty years ago at
the Western Reserve University.
Michelson suggested that the nega-
tive result of the experiment could
be accounted for by supposing that
the apparatus underwent a shorten-

ing in the direction of the line of |

motion. Later Professor Lorenz,
the Dutch physicist, assumed that
everything gets shortened as_ it
moves through space; that the 8,000
miles of the earth’s diameter is
shortened up by three or four

inches, an amount sufficient to pro-.

vide a scientific explanation for the
failure of the Michelson and Morley
attempt to detect that the earth

Was moving through the ether.
Then Einstein proposed his general-

ization that it is impossible to detect

the effects of motion, except when |

it is relative to another material

587

body, or that it is impossible to
detect the absolute velocity of any
body through space.

Many queer things have been writ-
ten and will be written in the daily
press concerning the theory of rela-
tivity, but perhaps none more
strange than the logical deductions
from the theory. As an example,
Einstein’s words (as translated by
Professor Wetzel in Science, Octo-
ber 3, 1913), in the paper of 1911,
may be quoted:

Give the watch a very large veloc-
ity (approximating the velocity of
light) so that it travels with uni-
form speed; after it has gone a long
distance give it an impulse in the
opposite direction so that it returns
to its starting point. We then ob-
serve that the hand of this watch
during its entire journey to and fro
has remained practically at a stand-
still, while the hand of an exactly
similar watch which did not move
with respect to the coordinate sys-
tem (the sun or earth) has changed
its position considerably.

We must add: what is true for
our watch with respect to time must
also be true of any other enclosed
physical system, whatever its na-
ture, because in all our thinking the
watch was introduced simply as a
representative of all physical ac-
tions or occurrences. Thus, for ex-
|ample, we could substitute for the
watch a living organism enclosed in
a box. Were it hurled through
space like the watch, it would be
possible for the organism, after a
flight of whatever distance, to re-
turn to its starting point practically
unchanged, while an exactly similar
erganism which remained motion-
less at the starting point might have
given place to new generations. For
| the organism in motion time was
but a moment, if its speed approach-
ed the velocity of light. This is a
necessary consequence of our funda-
/mental assumptions and one which
| experience imposes on us.

THE DISINTEGRATION OF
ATOMS AND ATOMIC
ENERGY

THE theory of relativity, though
| based on physical observations and

588

mathematical equations, seems to

carry us into a metaphysical region |

remote from our normal interests.
The discovery of radio-activity has
cpened new fields for exploration
yielding results almost incredible,
but not removed from our ordinary
conceptions and everyday interests.
At the recent centenary commemo-
ration of James Watt, it was sug-
gested by Sir Oliver Lodge that if
Watt were living to-day he would

be directing his attention to discover- |

ing whether there are other stores
of energy at present almost unsus-
pected. The fact was that con-
tained in the properties of matter
there was an immense source of en-
ergy so far inaccessible, but which
he saw no reason why the progress
of discovery should not make avail-
able. He referred to atomic energy
which, if it could be utilized on an
extensive scale, would, he believed,
greatly ameliorate the conditions of
factory life. There would be no
smoke due to imperfect combustion
and no dirt due to the transit of coal
er ashes, while the power would be
very compact and clean. Possibly
there might occasionally be explo-
sions due to the liberation of power
more quickly than it was wanted,
but in general he presumed that the
conditions of utilization would be
good.

Sir Oliver explained that the
secret of this power began to be
given away when radio-activity was
Giscovered, and said that at present
we were hardly at the beginning of
its utilization. The discovery of
radium, which soon followed, excited
universal interest and aroused great
surprise, because radium appeared
to give off energy continually with-
out being consumed. The truth was
that it did disappear as it gave off
its energy, but the disappearance
was so slow and the energy given off
se remarkable that it was not sur-

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

prising that one was noticed before
the other. The energy of radium,
however, was not under control, and
it went on emitting energy at its
ewn proper rate without regard to
accidental circumstances. What hap-
pened was that every now and then
a particle was projected. The en-
ergy stored in an atom was some-
thing enormous, and if we could

|make the atoms fly off when we

wanted there would be available a
source of energy which would put
everything else into the background.
This energy was contained in all
forms of matter and was not con-
fined to radio-active substances. If
a stimulus could be found the utili-
zation of this source of energy would
be possible. We appeared to be on
the verge of utilizing a minute frac-
tion of it, and it was this energy
which had made wireless telephony
possible.

Those familiar with Sir Oliver
Lodge’s communications with the
spirit world may regard his infor-
mation concerning the energy of
atoms as equally speculative, but
this is by no means the case. Sir
Ernest Rutherford has _ recently
given a lecture before the Royal In-
stitution in which he described ex-
periments which are incontrover-
tible even though the explanation
that he adduces may not be final.

The swift a-particles and the
high-speed electrons or £-rays
ejected from radio-active bodies are
by far the most concentrated sources
of energy known to science. The
enormous energy of the flying a-par-
ticles or helium atom is illustrated
by the bright flash of light it pro-
duces when it impacts on a crystal
of zine sulphide, and by the dense
distribution of ions along its trail
through a gas. This great store of
energy is due to the rapidity of its
motion, which in the case of the a-
particle of radium C amounts to

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

19,000 km. per second, or about 20,-
000 times the speed of a rifle-bullet.
The energy of motion of an ounce
of helium moving with the speed of
the a-particle is equivalent to 10,000
tons of solid shot projected with a
velocity of 1 km. per second.

Sir Ernest Rutherford found from
the scintillations on a zine sulphide
screen that when an a-particle strikes
an atom of nitrogen the latter is
broken down and a long range atom,
which is not nitrogen, arises from
the collision. This atom is held to
be a charged atom of hydrogen or
an atom of mass 2. Sir Ernest says
that taking into account the great
energy of the particle, the close col-
lision of an a-particle with a light
atom seems to be the most likely
agency to promote its disruption.
Considering the enormous intensity
of the forces brought into play in
such collisions, it is not so much a
matter of remark that the nitrogen
atom should suffer disintegration as
that the a-particle itself escapes dis-
ruption. The results, as a whole,
suggest that if a-particles, or similar
projectiles of still greater energy,
were available for experiment, we
might expect to break down the
nucleus structure of many of the
lighter atoms.

INTERNATIONAL SCIENCE
AND THE WAR

AN appeal has been addressed to
the members of the academies of the
allied nations and of the United
States by 177 members of the acad-
emies of neutral nations—Holland,
Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Finland

and Switzerland—represented in the

International Association of Acad-

emies, the opening and concluding |

paragraphs of which are as fol-
lows:

In the autumn of 1813, when for
years a most bitter war had been
raging between France and England,

589

the English chemist Humphry Davy
set out for Italy via Paris. His biog-
rapher relates what follows about his
experiences in the French capital:
“ Nothing could exceed the cordiality
and warmth of Davy’s reception by
the French savants. On Nov. 2nd he
attended a sitting of the First Class
of the Institute and was placed on
the right hand of the President, who
announced to the meeting that it was
honoured by the presence of ‘le
chevalier Davy.’ Each day saw some
reception or entertainment in his
honour. ... On Dee. 13th, 1913 he
was with practical unanimity elected
a corresponding member of the First
Class of the Institute.”

On October 2, 1918, when a most
bitter war raging between France
and Germany for four years had
practically come to an end, it is
stated in a meeting of the French
Academié des Science, that “elle a
été unanime 4 déclarer que les re-
lations personnelles sont pour long-
temps impossibles entre les savants
des pays alliés et ceux des empires
centraux,” so that “nous devons
abandonner les anciennes associa-
tions internationales, et en créer de
nouvelles entre alliés avec le con-
cours eventuél des neutres.”

Whence this painful contrast? We
should rather have expected the op-
posite, even without indulging illu-
sions with regard to the progress of
mankind during a hundred years.
For there seems to be more room for
generosity when the war’s misery is
past than when it is still raging;
more too towards a defeated enemy
than towards one who is still to be
feared.

Summing up what precedes we ask
you earnestly and urgently: Recover
your former selves. Recover the
high scientific point of view which,
on his deathbed, made Ampére say
to a fellow worker: “il ne doit étre
question entre nous que de ce qui est

590

eternel!’’? Once more: we under-
stand how your attention of late has
been monopolized by what is tem-
poral and transitory. But now, you
more than all the others, are called
upon to find again the way to what
is eternal. You possess the inclina-
tion for objective thought, the wide
range of vision, the discretion, the
habit of self-criticism. Of you we
had expected the first step for the
restoration of lacerated Europe. We
call on you for cooperation in order
to prevent science from becoming di-
vided, for the first time and for an
indefinite period, into hostile political
camps.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Charles Henry Hitchcock, for
forty years professor of geology at
Dartmouth College.

Dr. SIMON FLEXNER, director of
the laboratories of the Rockefeller
Institute for Medical Research, Dr.
Theodore W. Richards, professor of
chemistry at Harvard University,
and director of the Wolcott Gibbs
Memorial Laboratory, and Dr. R.
W. Wood, professor of physics in

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the Johns Hopkins University, have
been elected foreign members of the
Royal Society of London.

Dr. FRANK SCHLESINGER, of the
Allegheny Observatory, was elected
president of the American Astro-
nomical Society at the recent Ann
Arbor meeting. Dr. Schlesinger
succeeds the late Edward C. Pick-
ering, who for many years in suc-
cession had been elected to this
office—At the October meeting of
the executive board of the National
Research Council Professor Vernon
Kellogg, of Stanford University,
was elected executive secretary of
the council.

ANNOUNCEMENT is made that Mr.
John D. Rockefeller has added $10,-
C00,000 to his previous endowment
ef the Rockefeller Institute for Med-
ical Research. This gift, the larg-
est made by Mr. Rockefeller at one
time to the institution, is to meet
rapidly growing needs in its many
lines of research and in making new
knowledge available in the protec-
tion of the public health and in the
improved treatment of disease and
injury.

INDEX

591

INDEX

NAMES OF CONTRIBUTORS ARE

American Federation of Labor on
Scientific Research, 190

Aerial Crossing of the Ocean, GEORGE
DE BOTHEZAT, 433

Atoms, Disintegration of, 587

Barrell, Joseph, 93

BEARD, J. Howarp, Physical Rejec-
tions for Military Service, 5

Berry, Epwarp W., The Upper Cre-
taceous Mississippi, 131

Botanists, Two Southern, and the
Civil War, Nem E. STEVENS, 157

BOTHEZAT, GEORGE DE, Aerial Cross-
ing of the Ocean, 433

BREASTED, JAMES HENRY, The Orig-
ins of Civilization, 289, 416, 561

British Natural History Museum,
The Directorship of the, 284; Na-
tional Physical Laboratory, 478

Bureau of Mines, The Dedication of
the Pittsburgh Experimental Sta-
tion, 474; and James Austin
Holmes, 476

CAJORI, FLORIAN, Origin of our Nu-
merals, 458

CARMICHAEL, R. D., Individuality in
Research, 514

Child Vitality, I. NEwron KUuGEL-
MASS, 329

Civilization, Our Iron-Clad, R. H.
WHITBECK, 125; The Origins of,
JAMES HENRY BREASTED, 289, 416,
561

CLAASSEN, P. W., A Possible New
Source of Food Supply, 179

Colloids and Living Phenomena,
NATHAN FASTEN, 465

CONKLIN, EDWIN GRANT, The Mech-|

anism of Evolution, 481

Conscription, The Eugenie Aspect of
Selective, RoSwELL H. JOHNSON,
15

Cornell University, The Semi-Cen-
tennial of, 189

Cretaceous, The Upper, of the Mis-
sissippi Gulf, EDwarpD W. Berry,
131

Daylight Saving, The Psychology of,
GEORGE T. W. PATRICK, 385

Death, Natural, and the Duration of
Life, JACQUES LOEB, 578

DoouiTTLe, Eric, Our Universe of
Stars, 506

PRINTED IN SMALL CAPITALS

English Universities, The Reform
of, 381

EVERMANN, BARTON WARREN, The
Northern Fur-Seal Problem, 263

Eugenic Aspect of Selective Con-
scription, RoswELL H. JOHNSON,
15

Evolution, The Mechanism of, ED-
WIN GRANT CONKLIN, 481

FARR, CLIFFORD H., The Ferns of
the Rain-Forrest, 19

FASTEN, NATHAN, Colloids and Liv-
ing Phenomena, 465

Feudal Times in Venezuela, A. S.
PEARSE, 83

Fish, Fortunes in, and Fortunes in
Waste, Victor B. SHELFROD, 97

Food Supply, A Possible New Source
of, P. W. CLAASSEN, 179

Fur-Seal Problem, The Northern,
BARTON WARREN EVERMANN, 263

Geophone, Use of the, by Bureau of
Mines, 286

Harris, D. FRASER, Physiological
Inertia and Physiological Momen-
tum, 539

HARROW, BENJAMIN, William Henry
Perkin, 234

Health, Heliotherapy and the Sun,
Guy HINSDALE, 253

HINSDALE, Guy, The Sun,
and Heliotherapy, 253

Hippocrates, Modern Commentaries
on, JONATHAN WRIGHT, 62

Holmes, James Austin, and the Bu-
reau of Mines, 476

Homer, The White Man’s Magic in,
JONATHAN WRIGHT, 550

Human History, The Beginnings of,
JOHN C. MERRIAM, 193

Health

Ignis Fatuus, FERNANDO SANFORD,
358

Individuality in Research, R. D.
CARMICHAEL, 514

International Science and the War,
480

Jacobi, Abraham, 187
JOHNSON, ROSWELL H., The Eugenie

Aspect of Selective Conscription,
15

592

Kitson, Harry D., The Psycholog-
ical Moment, 246

KUGELMANN, I.
Nutrition, 329

Le Conte Memorial Lectures in the |

Yosemite Valley, 283
Life, Duration of,
Death, JACQUES LOEB, 578
Linkages, FRANK V. MORLEY, 366
LOEB, JACQUES, Natural Death and
the Duration of Life, 578
Lord Rayleigh, 379

Man and his Nervous System in the
War, F. H. PIKE, 47, 145, 224, 317

Medical, Association, American, The |

Atlantic Meeting of, 91; Founda-
tion for New York City, 191

Medicine as a determining Factor in
War, 91

MERRIAM, JOHN C., The Beginnings
of Human History, 193

Military Service, Physical Rejection
for, J. HOWARD BEARD, 5

Mineral Resources of the World, |

J. E. Spurr, 73
Morey, FRANK V., Linkages, 366
Mississippi Gulf, The Upper Cre-
taceous, EDWARD W. Berry, 131

Numerals, The Controversy on the
Origin of, FLORIAN CAJorI, 458
Nutrition, Applied, I. NEwron Kvu-

GELMASS, 329

Origin of our Numerals, The Con-
troversy on, FLORIAN CAJORI, 458

PARSONS, ELSIE CLEWS, Waiyautitsa
of Zuni, 443

PATRICK, GEORGE T. W., The Psy-
chology of Daylight Saving, 385

Pearse, A. S., Feudal Times in Ven-
ezuela, 83

Perkin, William Henry, BENJAMIN
Harrow, 2384

Photosynthesis, The Development of,
H. H. SPoeuHR, 32

Physical Laboratory, The British
National, 478

Physiological Inertia and Physiolog-
ical Momentum, D. FRASER HaAr-
RIS, 5389

Pixr, F. H., Man and his Nervous
System in the War, 47, 145, 224,
317

Progress of Science, 91, 187, 283,
379, 474, 591

Psychology of Daylight Saving,
GEORGE T. W. PATRICK, 385

NEWTON, Applied |

and Natural |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Psychological Moment, Harry D.

KITSON, 246

Rainfall of the United States,
ROBERT DEC. WARD, 210

Relativity and the Deflection of
Light, 586

Research, Individuality in, R. D.
CARMICHAEL, 514

SANFORD, FERNANDO, Ignis Fatuus,

358

Scientific, Items, 91, 191, 288, 388,
480, 590; Investigation, Coopera-
tion and Individualism in, C. L.
SHEAR, 342

ey C. L., Scientific Investigation,

SHELFORD, VIcToR E., Fortunes in
Waste and Fortunes in Fish, 97

Sneezing, The Romance and Tragedy
of, WILSON D. WALLIS, 526

Snowfall of the United States,
ROBERT DEC. WARD, 397

Bes and Sponges, H. V. WILSON,

9

SPOEHR, H. H., Photosynthesis since
Ingenhousz, 32

se and Species, H. V. WILSON,

Spurr, 8S. E., The Commercial Con-
trol of the Mineral Resources of
the World, 73

Stars, Our Universe of, Eric Doo-
LITTLE, 506

STEVENS, NEIL E., Two Southern
Botanists and the Civil War, 157

Sun, Health and Heliotherapy, Guy
HINSDALE, 253

Universities, The Reform of Eng-
lish, 381

Venezuela, Feudal Times in, A. S.
PEARSE, 83

Waiyautitsa of Zuni, New Mexico,
ELSIE CLEWS PARSONS, 443

War, Medicine as a determining Fac-
tor in, 91

Warp, Ropert DEC., Rainfall of the
United States, 210; Snowfall of
the United States, 397

WHITBECK, R. H., Our Iron-Clad
Civilization, 125

WILSON, D. WALLIS, The Romance
and Tragedy of Sneezing, 526

WILSON, H. V., In Regard to Species
and Sponges, 349

WRIGHT, JONATHAN, Modern Com-
mentaries on Hippocrates, 62;
Magic in Homer, 550

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: The Scientific monthly
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v9
Physical &

Applied Sci.

Serials

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