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THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ey He |
f Liued Po ii

THE
SCIENT IFIC MONTHLY

EDITED BY

J. McKEEN CATTELL

VOLUME XI

JULY-DECEMBER, 1920

|
pg
zai

4 "|
NEW YORK |B -
THE SCIENCE PRESS

1920

Copyright, 1920

THE Science PRESS

PRESS OF
THE NEW ERA PRINTING COMPANY
LANCASTER. PA.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

JULY, 1920

THE ECONOMIC IMPORTANCE OF THE SCIEN-
TIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT*

By Dr. EDWARD B. ROSA
CHIEF PHYSICIST, BUREAU OF STANDARDS

SCIENCE IN THE WAR

HE Great War was based very largely on science and engi-
ff neering. During the twenty-five years preceding the
outbreak of the war the enemy had developed science and the
practical applications of science in a wonderful way. He had
fostered the industries, developed shipping and foreign trade,
and promoted scientific research and education until the Ger-
man nation stood in the forefront of the nations of the earth.
With a complete misunderstanding of race psychology and an
utter lack of appreciation of moral values, the enemy had pre-
pared for a sudden attack with crushing force when a favor-
able occasion should arise. When the blow fell the allied
nations were unprepared, not only for lack of armies and muni-
tions, but for lack of industrial equipment, transportation
facilities, and scientific development. Holding the enemy at
bay under fearful odds while they built up their armies and
their industries, the allied and associated powers utilized all
the resources of science and engineering and a vast amount
of accumulated treasure to make good their initial deficiencies
and gain strength enough to wear out and overcome the
enemy. In this titanic struggle scientists, engineers and cap-
tains of industry were mobilized by the tens of thousands, and
men and women in the industries by the tens of millions, in
order that the soldiers and sailors in the armies and the fleets
might be adequately supplied with food, munitions and equip-
ment. The wonderful achievements of science under the pres-
sure of necessity demonstrated the economic possibilities of

1 Address before the Washington Academy of Sciences, May 20, 1920.

6 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

scientific research. This demonstration was not altogether
new, but the war brought it home more forcefully, and at its
close one felt that never again would anybody question the
importance and economic value of scientific investigation.

NECESSITY FOR INCREASED PRODUCTION

The war was conducted on such a gigantic scale that the
world’s supply of raw and manufactured materials was largely
exhausted. The increased demand thus caused for labor and
commodities, together with the inflation of currency and credit
and in many cases the reduced efficiency of labor has raised
prices beyond all precedent. Hardship and suffering have
come to hundreds of millions of people throughout the world
and political and economic confusion generally has resulted.

The cost of living during the war increased considerably,
but wages were so high that many classes of workers were
more prosperous than ever. The government directed the
channels of trade and controlled the supplies of materials with
much success, and prices in most cases were kept within
bounds. With the end of the war came an end of govern-
mental control, and also with many an end of economy and
thrift, and for these and other reasons prices have been mount-
ing steadily ever since. Increased costs led to industrial
unrest, strikes, high wages and further rise in prices. Profit-
eering has been denounced in the press and sought out by the
government, but the average of prices continues to rise. It is
generally agreed that in order to bring down prices it will be
necessary (1) to contract currency and credit, (2) to econo-
mize in the use of necessities and luxuries, and (8) to utilize
raw materials and labor more effectively and expand the pro-
duction of commodities. The first remedy must be worked out
by financiers and economists. The second might be accom-
plished by a nation-wide campaign for thrift and economy; and
the third would be greatly aided by cooperative study and
scientific and technical research on a comprehensive scale.

THE GOVERNMENT AND INCREASED EFFICIENCY

There is a shortage of labor in the country, and a tendency
to shorten rather than to lengthen the hours of labor. If,
therefore, production is to be increased without increased labor,
it is necessary to increase the productivity of labor; that is, to
increase the efficiency of men, of machines and of manufactur-
ing methods. To economize in the use of staple commodities
and luxuries, to reduce the waste of raw materials, to make

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 7

use of cheaper materials, to increase the efficiency of men, of
machines and of processes, on a nation-wide scale and at an
early date will call for intelligent and energetic effort, compar-
able in difficulty and importance with the task before the
country in 1917 when we entered the world war. It is not
merely in order to reduce the cost of living to those millions
whose incomes have not increased in proportion to the rise in
prices, and who in many cases are suffering hardship and dis-
tress; but it is to allay industria! discontent and forestall
economic and political disturbance or even disaster. The con-
fusion and inequity that have resulted from the rise of prices
threaten the stability of society. The governments of the
world are face to face with the problem of improving conditions
and allaying discontent. To hold that governments cannot or
should not deal constructively with the most serious problems
of society, but that such matters should be left to chance, with-
out organized effort or leadership, is not a satisfactory position
to take after the successful experience with government leader-
ship in the war. The old idea that the less government we
have the better, no longer applies, if it ever did. Society is
made up in part of a multitude of groups, some of which are
highly organized, and many are seeking the advantage of the
group rather than of society as a whole. The government
represents the interests of society as a whole, and its problems
and responsibilities have increased enormously in recent years.

THREE KINDS OF GOVERNMENTAL FUNCTIONS

Henry C. Adams, in his treatise on the Science of Finance,
classifies governmental functions into three groups, namely,
(a) The protective functions of government, (b) the commer-
cial functions of government and (c) the developmental func-
tions of government.

(a) The protective functions of government are divided
into three principal classes: (1) Protection against invasion or
encroachment from without is provided by the army and navy,
and this has always been an important and relatively expensive
department of a national government. (2) Protection of life,
property and reputation, which is accomplished through police,
fire departments and the courts. (8) Protection against the
spread of disease, either physical or social. As crime is looked
upon as a phase of social disease, this will include prisons,
asylums, sanitary provision, public charities, etc.

(b) The commercial functions of government include those
which render a service for which payment is made by the in-

8 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

GROUP IL "EL OB 7225

GROUP -I-

#3855482Z,585

CROUP I

GROUPIE 168, 203,557

Distribution of Government Aypgropr vations
fer ftscal Year 1920.

dividuals served, and are in general self-supporting. They
address themselves primarily to the personal needs of the
citizen rather than to the social needs of the state, and are
performed by the state because it can render the service better
or cheaper than private agencies. Examples are the post
office, and in some cases railways, canals, telegraphs and other
public utilities, patents and insurance.

(c) The developmental functions of government “are such
as spring from a desire on the part of society to attain higher
forms of social life.’ Society is not merely a collection of
individuals, but is a conscious organism, and the interests of
society require collective action in developing itself. This in-
cludes, (1) public education, (2) public recreation, (3) provid-
ing those legal and administrative conditions in which private
business will be conducted in a just and equitable manner,
(4) public investigation and control of public utilities, (5) de-
veloping the resources and wealth of the state, which includes
scientific and industrial research.

DEVELOPMENTAL FUNCTIONS OF THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT

These three classes of functions are exercised to some ex-
tent by municipal and state governments as well as the federal
government. For the present we are concerned only with

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 9

Agoropriations for Fiscal year 1/214 on 1920 Circle
Aopropriations sor 1920 =760°
Appropriations for lU4a = Ag

those exercised by the federal government. The powers of the
federal government were delegated to it by the states, and
were intended to be those required for the exercise of sover-
eignty by the nation in its relation with other nations, the
maintenance of a national army and navy, the provision of a
national currency, a common postal system, a uniform system
of weights and measures (although this was not carried out
as intended), the regulation of interstate commerce, etc.

In the early years of our history, society was relatively
simple, communication and travel were infrequent, and each
community was comparatively independent. Hence local gov-
ernments were, in many respects, more important than
national. With the developments in transportation and com-
munication which have resulted from steam and electricity, the
forty-eight states have come very close together, commerce
and industry have much in common everywhere, uniformity
of practise and uniformly good practise are generally desired,
and it has been a problem how to avoid confusion of admin-
istration and industrial practise when there were so many
legislatures and administrative bodies acting independently of
each other. This has been partly accomplished by the coopera-
tion of federal agencies with state bodies, leaving the legal
authority with the states.

Many protective and developmental functions have long
been exercised by the federal government because they were of

10 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Scace l= FSQMILUON Dou aes

id 1920
A [7-4
4

Comparison of Government Aypropriations for Fiscal years 1920 and 19
[Figures th Bars Rooresent Milhons of Dollars)

common interest to all the people, and they could be performed
more effectively and more economically by the federal govern-
ment than by the several states, and there was no practicable
way of getting the states to work in harmony on a common
program. The people who support the federal government
are the same people who support the forty-eight state govern-
ments, and hence the plan of acting together through the fed-
eral government in performing functions of interest to all is
not only economical and efficient but logical and just.

SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH A LUXURY OR A NECESSITY?

For many years the revenues of the federal government
were ample and easily obtained. Taxation was indirect and
not felt and many of the developmental functions of the gov-
ernment were exercised with little question or objection. The
Great War involved enormous expenditures and increased the
fixed charges due to the public debt and other war obligations
to several times the former budget. The result is that ex-
penditures for education, scientific research and development
work are severely scrutinized, and the question is raised as to
whether we can afford to carry on such work on a generous
scale. It is, of course, proper that every item in the national
budget be closely scrutinized, and that nothing be passed which
cannot justify itself. It is desirable, therefore, to inquire
whether scientific research as carried on by the federal govern-
ment is a luxury or a necessity; whether it is something to be

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 11

LLG L920

lll
l\Z

Vv

:

“Comparison of Government Appropriaitons by Groups
Por Fiscal Years 1414 and 1920

Zotal vor Groups-lW4+= 773607 /84..
Fotal for GroupS1I20 «5686, WE 706.
= Fatio of £920 toLH4

enjoyed when taxes are light and curtailed when taxes are
heavy; or whether it is creative and wealth producing, and
therefore to be increased and developed when expenses are
abnormally large and a heavy debt must be liquidated. The
question is, in short, whether scientific and industrial research
and education are like good seed and fertilizer to a farmer,
which are essential to the best success; or whether they are
as luxuries to the rich which consume but do not produce, and
which should be curtailed when necessary expenses increase.

THE NATIONAL BUDGET

In order to discuss the question concretely and with refer-
ence to actual conditions, let us examine the national budget
as it stands for the current fiscal year, with appropriations
amounting to a total of $5,686,005,706, as given in the regular
supply bills and three deficiency bills prior to May 1, 1920.
For convenience, we may divide it into six parts as follows:

Group I. Obligations arising from recent and previous
wars, including interest on the public debt,
pensions, war risk insurance, rehabilitation
and care of soldiers, deficit in the operation
of railways, expenditures of the Shipping

12 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Board, European food relief and the bonus to
government employees to partially cover the
increased cost of living due to the war, a

BOLL GOR ei tasters ssn). Ge ape a eit ee Mateo ite iets $3,855,482,585
Group II. War and Navy Departments, expenses some-
what above a permanent peace-time basis... .$1,424,138,677

Group III. Primary governmental functions, including Con-

gress, President and White House staff,

courts and penal establishments, depart-

ments of Justice, State, Treasury, Interior,

Commerce, Labor, Interstate Commerce and

other commissions, one-half the District of

Columbia including all the necessary func-

tions of government other than defense, ex-

cept the commercial activities of Group V.

and the research, education and develop-

mental “work ‘of Group) Wil: noes so. oss ae $ 181,087,225
Group IV. Public works, including rivers, and harbors,

public buildings, reclamation service, post

roads, national parks and railway in Alaska.$ 168,203,557
Group V. Commercial or self-supporting activities, in-

cluding the Post Office, Patent Office, Land

Office, Panama Canal, and Housing Corpora-

tion, which taken together earn their ex-

DODSESS hs Ae see eee oie Se een) eres chose ere at
Group VI. Research, educational and developmental, in-

cluding the wide range of work of the Agri-

cultural Department, Geological Survey, Bu-

reau of Mines, Coast and Geodetic Survey,

Bureau of Standards, Bureau of Fisheries,

Bureau of Foreign and Domestic Commerce,

Bureau of Labor Statistics, Women’s and

Children’s Bureaus, Vocational Education, Col-

leges for Agriculture and Mechanical Arts,

Library of Congress, Smithsonian Institution

and the Public Health Service ............ $ 57,093,661

GEARY | GAT NELLA EAN, yt eR NY $5,686,005,705

APPROPRIATIONS FOR FISCAL YEAR ENDING JUNE 30, 1920

(As given in regular supply bills and three deficiency bills prior to
May 1, 1920)

Group I. Expenditures arising from Recent and Previous Wars

Interestcon the «publicsdebt2 255). Be eee, Bigs cee ee $1,076,637,000.00
Pensi@us aie rece bo seks ve misters dee Fe Chere eee eee 216,382,540.00
War risk insurance (estimated expenses above receipts

SIOZ; OOO MOONY scpeaetais bec AiO% Ale hac tp ome ete a 120,852,806.00
Federal Board for Vocational Education (rehabilitation) . 30,000,000.00
Public Health Service (care of soldiers, etc.) .......... 25,901,517.14
Soldiers’ and sailors’ homes, cemeteries, etc. ........... 14,639,010.00

Federal control of transportation. (Deficit and Ad-
Wanees) SS ui aed, eels etkon s staueinuddotamotarlens ciclo eavaeienete 1,550,000,000.00

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 13

United States Shipping Board (estimated expenses, in-

cluding funds reappropriated) .........----+++eeees 685,842,000.00
European food relief ...........2.eseesee eee ee ec cees 100,000,000.00
Other expenditures due to recent War .......-+--+++-++5 4,467,712.46

30,760,000.00
$3,855,482.585.60

Bonus to government employees ........--+.-++eseeeees
67.81%

Group Il. War and Navy Departments (Somewhat above Permanent
Peace-time Expenditures) +*

War Department—Military ............. $797,913,898.95

@ivaliany. 0. 2.2e cere 6,373.949.12 $804,287.848.07
Navy Department—Military ............ 617,621,353.56
Civilians oesciererieertos 2,229.474.94 619,850,828.50

25.02% $1,424,138,676.57

Group III. Primary Governmental Functions

[DENT aS he ole Fie OP Gee ae nea Oe EOE
Executive (President and White House Staff) .........
Judiciai (Federal Courts, Penal Establishments, etc.)...
sereeE MRC ITE VOR MAMISTICO U4. ois) a ele saa olelovelln a ore gw Wis sie swe wie
SRM STATUE GH cia aio cos. = foie ieisiatsl slisleigis c-siele’svetaiciarciens oc
Treasury Department:
General, including collection of customs.$ 29,065,653.22
Internal Revenue Service ............ 29,751,170.00
MOYERS Ei OUMED ECON chefs wie\4 ieee) yee. c'e sus Midiatsiae's s 8,880,523.33
Bureau of Engraving and Printing.... 7,010,425.00

Department of Interior:
General, including Alaskan Expenditures
Indian Office and Indian Service ......

1,940,684.92
11,437,187.00

Department of Commerce:

General, including Bureau of Navigation 920,725.52
bores of iehthouses ) oi... 0.6.5. 53. 8,411,030.00
Steamboat Inspection Service ......... 995,890.00

Bmeevde ot Census . 2h... .0ec6...00005 17,550,000.00

Department of Agriculture:
YC meMISMCCHIGN SSETVICE .l. 5.5 ccs cee ces tee ewe ews
Department of Labor-Immigration, Naturalization:
Employees’ Compensation, Conciliation, etc. .........
Interstate Commerce Commission
MeGerdl MEsge COMMISSION 0.2. ce cs eas cdodeesneacwas
Cina Servicem COMMISSION .)5 7. - cc 2. eis cre)cise's aisie) oie) eae, axe «
Joint Commission on Reclassification of Salaries ........
MES Orith: GOMMISSION? 2568... seldls ioe ss eee cae eias

Ol Oh. 4) elim wo u/ ee, m Ole a keliey ofp eal 6) es

10,837,936.47
224,080.00
12,124,884.24
4,483,671.70
12,331,371.97

74,707,771.55

13,377,871.92

27,877,645.52
3,000,000.00

5,464,337.32
5,813,086.90
1,205,000.00
543,700.00
50,000.00
300,000.00

2 Disbursements for interest on public debt for the fiscal year 1920

will be somewhat less than appropriations.

3 Appropriations to Railroads include $300,000,000 loan, but do not

include the deficit from March 1 to June 30, 1920.

4 Disbursements for fiscal year 1920 will exceed by about one billion
of dollars the above appropriations for the War and Navy Departments
because of balances of appropriations carried over from 1919.

14 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Bureau sol BHCIENCyi re ce wceie os oe Cece Cele eepeede rebates Os
One half District of Columbia, Hospitals, ete. ..........

145,000.00
9,100,867.82

8.19% $ 181,087,225.41

Group IV. Public Works

War Department—Rivers and Harbors ...............
Treasury Department—public buildings (equipment and

CONSELUCELON)| es CN Aer A cuca eons eS iaiq yaya oielohenenenemet ot ehengita fe 10,819,076.11
Repairs and maintenance of public buildings in D. C..... 1,189,633.20
UlASaiReclamationVSenvice oii sectcos see teers rs 7,511,000.00
Department of Agriculture—rural post roads .......... 99,000,000.00
National (Park Senviceiiciccuincictsiers ctaceiie ater Nee ere aliens 777,195.00
Construction’ of "railroad in "Alaska 202). Rosati occ e's 6,000,000.00

2.97% $ 168,203,557.46
Group V. Commercial or Self-supporting Government Activities

Post Office Department—Surplus, 1919...$ 2,342,851.96
Department of Interior:

Patent Office—Surplus, 1919........... 106,654.10
General Land Office—Estimated Sur-
PUIG, MOZO UE oct iaentees) ous ce ee 1,500,000.00
U. S. Housing Corporation—Estimated
Operating |Surplus;) (O20 ee hie vcle es 1,012,973.00
Panama Canal—Estimated Deficit, 1920.. 3,297,337.00

$ 43,456,653.15

Group VI. Research, Eductional and Developmental

Department of Agriculture:
Forest Service—less receipts of $4,-

TEOSOOOO0 Gracie ets Mas chsh she etek iste $ 4,191,869.00
Bureau of Animal Industry ........... 5,783,231.00
States Relations Service ............. 4,905,820.00
Bureau) of /Plantwindustryieccn cr iieceac 3,379,638.00
Cooperative Agricultural Extension

Wire yi At ycchieie see rweeks ate reds love lois iol eme 3,080,000.00
Bureauvor Warketsner acacia cn ase 2,811,365.00
Weather | Bareaw) ii. inc onus sci slate siate 1,880,210.00
Bureau of Mntomology crassa 1,371,360.00
Bureauof iChemisiryan screenees 1,391,571.00
Bureau of Biological Survey .......... 742,170.00
Burea jot Public Roads) 4 sciences 594,320.00
IBURCAW LOfe SOUS bereicickie eae Nee 491,235.00
Bureau of Crop Estimates ........... 372,484.56
Bureau of Farm Management and

Brn CONOMICS mie a ate eee 302,590.00
Horticultural and Insecticide ......... 252,940.00
Miscellaneous Investigations .......... 2,589,400.00
General Administration,” . .4.15¢)4 tices 1,715,626.58

Department of the Interior:
Geolovical VSaEvey) eee Ue er ae guy $ 1,661,353.50
Bureau |ioiMimes Guia egi teats 1,216,897.00
Bureau ote Meaducationmere teeters 241,960.00
Howard | Aniversigyiiecssteleoe ake eile 121,937.75

$35,855,830.14

3,242,148.25

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 15

Department of Commerce:

Coast and Geodetic Survey ........... $ 1,925,370.03
oresu. of Standards «2.2.60 0. o 6. 1,892,260.00
Bureauwoe HISNeries . 215). lee ele seis <1 1,274,490.00
Bureau of Foreign and Domestic Com-
TGINES » lute ACG ARIEL Rise Oe ab eo 912,510.00 6,004,630.03
Department of Labor:
Burcaurof wabor Statistics:'.t 16... $ 321,690.00
Women’s and Children’s Bureaus ...... 320,140.00 641,830.00
Treasury Department—Public Health Service .......... 4,025,440.00
Federal Board for Vocational Education .............. 3,182,000.00
Colleges for Agricultural and Mechanic Arts .......... 2,500,000.00
OE UisvemOEM COMSSECSS) oo 1oi 5 © oeerora iettietetcia leis ole, etes ernie 2,912) 925,825.00
Sere MOAT THEI EIONY <4 s/s. uJo'a'e eleva Se « s e\ekeie eee eee 715,957.51
1.01% $ 57,093,660.93
SUMMARY
Group I, Expenditures arising from Recent
and Previous Wars «.. 22. ss: $3,855,482,585.60 67.81%
Group II. War and Navy Departments.... 1,424,138,676.57 25.02%
Group III. Primary Government Functions... 181,087,225.41 3.19%
CEPA Ee UDIC? WOLKS © 2.660 das. eg we ens 168,203,557.46 2.97%
Group VI. Research, Educational and De-
velopmental ..:...)...'. Bae 57,093,660.93 1.01%
LUTE UNG SG ed en $5,686,005,705.97 100.00%

ONE PER CENT. FOR RESEARCH, EDUCATION AND DEVELOP-
MENTAL WORK?

The first two groups together amount to 92.8 per cent of
the total; public works amount to 3 per cent, primary govern-
mental functions 3.2 per cent, and research, education and
developmental work 1 per cent. The population of the country
being about 110,000,000, the total budget is about $50 per year
per capita, of which fifty cents per year per capita is expended
for the wide range of research, education and development
work included in Group VI. That is, of the fifty dollars per
year per capita collected for all purposes, a dollar and a half
per year per capita is spent for what is here called the primary
functions of government; nearly as much more is put into

2 For the next fiscal year, the appropriations needed for the railroads
and Shipping Board, and for the Army and Navy, will be very much less
than for the current fiscal year. The Treasury Department therefore ex-
pects to be able to make a very substantial reduction in the floating debt,
now amounting to nearly three billions of dollars. The appropriations for
Group VI for the next fiscal year are substantially the same as for this
year. The ratio of Group VI to the total will therefore be substantially
the same as at present (namely, one per cent), if we include, as we should,
the payments on floating debt and sinking fund in Group I, and if the
total revenues for next year are approximately the same as this year.

16 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

DISTRIBUTION OF GOVERNMENT EXPENDITURES
For FiscAL YEAR 1920

public works, and fifty cents per year is put back into research,
educational and developmental work, to promote scientific re-
search, to increase production and efficiency, to develop wealth,
to promote the public health, and to conserve our natural re-
sources. This is a very small part of the total, hardly enough
to be regarded as a burden on the nation. Indeed, one is led
to wonder whether the total burden of taxation would not be
lighter if the expenditure for scientific and developmental
work were increased; if, for example, it were one dollar per
year per capita instead of fifty cents. In other words, if
$110,000,000 were expended annually for this creative and pro-
ductive work, would it not be easier to collect the five and
a half billions for other purposes? To answer this question
intelligently, it will be well to look a little closer into how the
fifty cents per capita is expended and what is accomplished
thereby.

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 17

MN,
GEOLOGICAL NING ANo

MINERALS

Surver - ee
ae
cE GoMMERC’ acs Lo
F.6D COMMER we wun
u
Burts

x
wo.
}
a
°o
=
°
=
2

Q

DISTRIBUTION OF EXPENDITURES OF GRouP YT
FoR RESEARCH, EDUCATION AND DEVELOPMENT

WORK OF THE AGRICULTURAL DEPARTMENT

Nearly two thirds of all the expenditures made under
Group VI. are for the work of the Agricultural Department.
Agriculture is the most important industry of the nation.
Agricultural and animal products amount possibly to twenty-
five billions of dollars per year. Food has risen in price in
recent years along with other products, partly because of
higher wages and higher cost of machinery and supplies used
by farmers, but largely because the urban population has in-
creased faster than the rural and the demand for food products
has increased faster than the supply. It is of prime impor-
tance to city dwellers that food products be produced in greater
quantity, and this requires an increased efficiency or an in-
creased rural population, or both. The Agricultural Depart-

VOL. X.—2.

18 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ment carries on a wide range of educational and experimental
work in order to increase the production of farm products and
to promote the interest of the farmer in his work, as well as to
make life on the farm and in rural communities more attrac-
tive. This not only benefits the farmer, but tends to keep food
prices within reason for city dwellers. It is therefore serv-
ing all the people, and its work was never so much needed as at
the present time. It is spending about $1.50 for every $1,000
of value of agricultural and animal products, and without doubt
the results achieved pay many times the cost of the work.
The work of the Forest Service is nearly self-supporting, and
might have been put into Group V. This year, owing to
unusual forest fires, its deficit is larger than usual. Ulti-
mately, it will be more than self-supporting. The work of the
various bureaus is of great importance and absorbing interest,
but time does not permit even a brief description.

THE GEOLOGICAL SURVEY AND THE BUREAU OF MINES

The Geological Survey and the Bureau of Mines are con-
cerned with the mineral industries of the country; coal, iron,
copper and the other industrial and precious metals, oil, gas
and the water supply and the topography of the land. Our
country is rich in these natural resources and we are spending
them in prodigal fashion. It is the business of these two
bureaus to survey and map the distribution of metals and
minerals; to look for new sources of supply; to gather statis-
tics and to increase safety and efficiency in the mining and
metallurgical industries; and to consider what can be done to
conserve these natural resources which, unlike the products of
agriculture, are not reproduced in annual cycles, but when once
used can never be replaced. In addition, topographic and
water power surveys are made and mapped. The products of
the mineral industries of the country amount possibly to six
billions of dollars per year. They are indispensable to our
manufactures, and a most important part of our national
wealth. If these two bureaus were to spend in this important
work of research and development, an amount equal to one
dollar in a thousand of the annual value of mineral products,
it would amount possibly to six millions of dollars per year,
which is more than double present expenditures. Can there
be any doubt that such a sum expended in the interest of the
public that pays the entire cost, and must bear the burdens
of any inefficiency that exists in the industries, would be amply
repaid? For example, millions of dollars are worse than

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 19

wasted every year in accidents that could be prevented. Min-
ing is one of the most hazardous of industries. The Bureau of
Mines has done a great deal of valuable work, both in research
and education, to make mining safer; but there is need for a
great deal more than it has been able to do. The results of
such work are available in all the states where mining is
carried on. It can generally be done better, and far more
economically, than if done by the states unaided by the federal
government. These two bureaus are doing a work of great
economic importance at a cost to the people of this country of
three cents per capita per year. If it were doubled the burden
would be only slightly increased, but the service rendered in
the increased efficiency of production and fewer accidents and
more intelligent use of our natural resources would be very
considerable. This is a splendid example of the economic and
social value of cooperation of all the people through the agency
of the federal government in doing efficiently what is needed
by all.

THE BUREAUS OF STANDARDS AND OF FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC
COMMERCE

The Bureau of Standards develops and maintains the
standards of length, mass, volume, temperature, electrical and
optical measurements, prepares standard chemicals and does
many other kinds of fundamental work; it does testing for the
government and the public, and it carries out scientific and
industrial researches to develop the industries. A very large
amount of work is done for the army, navy and other depart-
ments and for state institutions, so that not more than one
half of its total expenditures can properly be considered as
used for the development of the industries. Excluding food
products, tobacco and liquors, the annual value of manufac-
tured products in this country, over and above the value of the
raw materials entering into them, is possibly $12,000,000,000.
The Bureau of Standards spends this year a sum not more than
15 cents per $1,000 of manufactured products in all its work,
and as stated above, not more than one half of it is for the
purpose of developing these manufactures. If this sum could
be considerably increased, it would enable a much larger
amount of work to be done and the work could be carried on
more efficiently. I shall give examples presently of such work,
and you may judge whether it would be profitable.

While the Bureau of Standards maintains and makes avail-
able the standards of measurement, of quality, of performance,
and of practise, for commerce and the industries, and engages

20 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in research to develop the industries, the Bureau of Foreign
and Domestic Commerce is concerned with the development of
commerce and our export trade. The importance of foreign
trade to a great nation, and the opportunity and duty of the
government in fostering that trade in all legitimate ways,
need no emphasis on this occasion. In view of the position
of America as a world power, and in view of the general desire
that our foreign commerce may be not only profitably but
ereditably conducted, it would seem that this function of the
government would be developed and strengthened.

THE COAST SURVEY AND THE BUREAU OF FISHERIES

The Coast and Geodetic Survey is one of the oldest
branches of the government doing scientific and technical work,
and until the establishment of the Bureau of Standards, kept
the standards and did the testing of weights and measures.
It is charged with the survey of the coasts and rivers to the
head of ship navigation, and the publication of charts, giving
the results of base measurements, triangulation, topographic
and hydrographic surveys, deep sea soundings, temperature,
magnetic observations, gravity research, determination of
heights, latitude, longitude, and reference points for state
surveys. The work is very fundamental and important and
has been done with a high order of precision and thoroughness,
and with marked credit to the government.

The purpose of the Bureau of Fisheries is the stimulation of
the production and consumption of fish as an important source
of food. To stimulate production, scientific research on the
habits and propagation of fish is carried on. The breeding of
fish and their distribution into lakes and streams is done on
a large scale. In all of this work, but particularly in connec-
tion with the propagation of fish and the protection of fish
against lawlessness, the Bureau cooperates with the various
states. The responsibility of the government for work of this
kind is obvious, and there can be no doubt as to its being
profitable.

THE BUREAU OF LABOR STATISTICS AND THE WOMEN’S AND
CHILDREN’S BUREAUS

The Bureau of Labor Statistics gathers the statistics of
wages in the various industries and of the cost of living, and
publishes much valuable material of interest to labor and
capital. The prosperity and happiness of all the people depend
to a considerable extent upon industrial peace and freedom

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 21

from strikes and disorder. Industrial peace and contentment
require justice and fair dealing between employers and em-
ployed. In order that both may know what is just and fair,
statistical information as to wages and changes in prices and
the cost of living is essential. It is probable that the greatest
obstacle to a good understanding between employers and em-
ployed is lack of information. Suspicion and prejudice often
give way to sympathy and understanding when full informa-
tion, including information about what others are doing, is
made available. The good results achieved by generous treat-
ment of labor should be put before all employers, and if the
government would spend more on research and education in
this important field, might it not save much that is now spent
in other directions? And might not the public be saved much
both in expense and inconvenience that results from industrial
warfare? This subject is of such tremendous and far-reach-
ing importance that one is led to ask whether the government
is doing as much as it should in this connection.

The work of the Women’s and Children’s Bureaus is rela-
tively new, but of great importance. Women are employed in
the industries more than ever before, and the high wages and
shortage of labor increase the pressure for the work of chil-
dren. In the interest of the state, apart from considerations
of humanity, women and children should be protected in the
industries; and the work of these two bureaus is therefore of
fundamental importance. It seems likely that it will grow
rapidly in magnitude and occupy a larger place in the public’s
thought.

EDUCATIONAL WORK

The Bureau of Education collects and disseminates infor-
mation concerning educational matters. The federal govern-
ment has never taken a very active part in the educational
work of the country. Whereas cities spend an average of $6
per year per capita for education and the states and private
agencies about $3 per year per capita, the federal government
spends only 6 cents per capita per year, including the sums
expended in vocational education and assistance granted to
colleges of agriculture and mechanic arts. Common schools
and high schools are maintained by towns and municipalities,
with some aid from the state. Normal and secondary schools,
colleges and universities, are maintained by the states and
“private agencies. Indeed private schools and privately en-
dowed colleges and universities constitute a very important
part of our educational system. The federal government, on

~.

22 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the other hand, has no national university, and spends no
money in the District of Columbia on higher education, except
for Howard University for colored students. For many years
the Bureau of Education has been doing a valuable work in
keeping a record of the educational work of the country. Its
support might well be greatly augmented, its scope broadened
and its activities and responsibilities correspondingly in-
creased. We believe thoroughly in this country in popular
education. We believe that the welfare of the state demands
an intelligent electorate, and that material prosperity goes with
education. The war revealed an unsuspected percentage of
illiteracy in the men examined for military service. A mil-
lion men in the draft could not read and write. The federal
government might well take greater responsibility in matters
of education and cooperate more actively with the states,
setting standards for educational work and giving direction
and encouragement where they are needed. A department of
Education with a cabinet member at the head, has more than
once been proposed, and is even now being discussed.

Better facilities for higher education in the District of
Columbia would be of great value to thousands of federal em-
ployees, as well as to other residents of Washington. The
desire of federal employees for educational advancement should
be encouraged and the needed facilities supplied, partly for
their own sake and partly because they would thereby be en-
abled to render better service to the government. Washing-
ton is the proud capital of the richest nation on earth, and
yet there are few cities in America and few capitals anywhere
in the world where so little is done for higher education.

Recently, the Federal Board for Vocational Education has
been established, and a substantial sum placed at its disposal.
The need for vocational training was emphasized by the re-
sults of tests made in the army. Of men claiming expert
knowledge of the skilled trades, only six in a hundred were
found to be really expert. The Board assists the states finan-
cially and otherwise in developing and maintaining a system
of vocational training. Such work is greatly needed as in-
dustry itself fails to supply the training necessary.

For many years the government has been cooperating with
the states by paying a certain sum of money each year to one
college in each state for the teaching of agriculture and me-
chanic arts. This was provided for under the Morrill act, and
these payments now amount to $2,500,000 per year. In most
cases these sums are a very substantial help to the institutions

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 23

receiving them, and undoubtedly do a very great deal of good
in the aggregate.

An English journal, commenting on the increased sums
allotted in the English budget for next year to scientific and
industrial research, has this to say: ‘Education and the
financing of that education are important subjects. Indeed,
we do not hesitate to say that upon the right methods of in-
struction being followed depends very largely the future pros-
perity of the nation.”

THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS AND THE SMITHSONIAN
INSTITUTION

The Library of Congress is a great national institution,
corresponding to the British Museum .and the Bibliotheque
Nationale. It is properly grouped with the educational insti-
tutions of the government, and it is an institution of which
all Americans are proud. It is a great library, housed in a
beautiful building, useful to thousands, enjoyed by hundreds
of thousands. The country approves a generous policy toward
this activity of the government, devoted as it is to art and
education.

The Smithsonian Institution and the National Museum are
national institutions devoted to science, art and natural his-
tory. The Smithsonian Institution has a private endowment,
but the greater portion of its funds come from the government.
It carries out scientific researches in the physical and natural
sciences and has extremely valuable collections in its museums
and art galleries. The government has not done as much in
promoting art and collecting works of art as have many other
governments, and it is to be hoped that much may be done in
the future to compensate for past neglect of these matters.

THE PUBLIC HEALTH SERVICE

The Public Health Service is one of the most important
of the agencies doing work of research and education. It
maintains supervision over incoming vessels to prevent the
introduction of diseases; to prevent the spread of diseases
between the states it makes inspections and cooperates with
the state departments of health; statistics of diseases are col-
lected and interpreted; and scientific research is carried out to
develop methods of preventing the spread of disease.

The Service has recently formulated a comprehensive
health program to be carried out on a nation-wide scale by
the active cooperation of federal, state and local authorities

24 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and voluntary organizations. That these needs are urgent is
shown by the fact that more than one third of all men examined
under the draft during the war were rejected for physical
defects and diseases. The Surgeon General states that in large
measure these defects and diseases could have been prevented
had proper attention been given to them, especially in child-
hood. This unsatisfactory condition of the public health shows
the need of greater attention on the part of the federal govern-
ment, and more systematic cooperation between local and
national agencies. This systematic cooperation is obtained by
the federal aid extension principle, as in the construction of
good roads, and agricultural education.

A large amount of most valuable medical, statistical and
research work is carried on by the Public Health Service,
which has been greatly developed in recent years. The oppor-
tunities presented in this work for growth and increased use-
fulness are almost boundless. In addition to its work in con-
nection with the public health, a large amount of work is done
in the care and rehabilitation of sick and wounded soldiers.

The foregoing brief outline of the activities of the various
government agencies included in Group VI gives a very incom-
plete statement of the research and educational work done by
the government. It is, however, intended to convey some idea
of the wide range and important character of this work, and
its great possibilities for development if more adequate provi-
sion could be made for its support. A portion of the work of
the Bureau of Chemistry, the Bureau of Standards, the Coast
and Geodetic Survey and other bureaus of Group IV would
have been included in Group III if the work of the bureaus had
been split up and the classification had been more detailed and
exact. On the other hand, a portion of the work of the Naval
Observatory, the Bureau of the Census, and other bureaus in
other groups is scientific and educational. It is not possible
to make a simple classification that is perfectly exact, but it is
believed that the one given is sufficiently exact for the purpose.
The Public Works group has value in economic development,
but it is not research and educational, and is quite different
from most of Group VI. It is now proposed to speak more in
detail of one important kind of scientific research, namely, that
designed to develop the industries of the country. This work
is done primarily in the public interest, although it is generally
helpful and beneficial to the individual owners.

(To be concluded)

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 25

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH’

By Dr. JAMES ROWLAND ANGELL

PROFESSOR AND HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF PSYCHOLOGY OF THE UNI-
VERSITY OF CHICAGO, AND CHAIRMAN OF THE NATIONAL
RESEARCH COUNCIL

I. THE CONCEPTION OF RESEARCH

ESEARCH has been for years past a term with which to
conjure, but one to which often only the vaguest and
most indefinite meaning has attached. It is frequently used
as though it were a sort of trade name, a label wherewith to
mark goods of a certain merchantable character. In point of
fact there are at least as many types of research as there are
research men—indeed probably more. Research may be good,
bad, or indifferent; it may be thorough or careless, funda-
mental or accessory, substantial or superficial, and while cer-
tain of these distinctions are too obvious to be labored, there
are others which deserve a word of comment.

A distinction often drawn, and having a certain practical
validity, is that between research in pure science and research
in applied science. It is easy to magnify this distinction quite
out of proportion to the actual facts. The objects of research
in pure science and the motives inspiring the work may be
appreciably different from those encountered in the field of
applied science. But the technique of the procedure in the
two cases may be all but indistinguishable and either variety
of research, if it is to survive the test of scientific criticism,
must be based upon absolutely fundamental scientific prin-
ciples. In the last analysis, the difference reduces almost
wholly to the psychological question of motivation. The man
working in the field of applied science has before him a con-
crete specific issue involving some immediate practical exi-
gency. The worker in pure science has quite as definite a
specific problem, but it is not one which has arisen out of,
nor which necessarily exists in obvious relation to, an imme-
diate demand. Beyond this I doubt if significant differences
exist.

1 Delivered before the Association of American Universities, Colum-
bus, November 8, 1919.

26 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Another distinction which is of great consequence for the
development of research consists in the origination of new
methods, as distinguished from the application of old methods
in a new field. From the point of view of the value of the
results obtained the difference is not always of marked im-
portance, for it not infrequently happens that discoveries of
crucial significance come out of the application of an accepted
technique. But it is perfectly clear that we can make use of
a distinctly less fertile and ingenious type of mind to carry
forward the application of a method in fields slightly different
from those in which it has been previously used than is re-
quired for the discovery of new basic principles and the inven-
tion of fundamentally new methods. For example, the dis-
covery of the Roentgen rays is an achievement of a very dif-
ferent order from the devising of some new medical use of
them, and yet the latter may be popularly adjudged the matter
of prime human significance. Every university man is fami-
liar with the phenomenon of a series of doctor’s theses, each
carrying out in a slightly different range—let us say in a series
of biological species—methods devised perhaps by a professor
in charge and by him tried out in a few groups to start with.
Such work is accepted as original research and unquestionably
has a measure of originality, inasmuch as there are almost
invariably some new and unexpected conditions to be met
which require modifications of greater or less degree in the
application of the method. But original research in the largest
and most generous sense of the term such work is not.

I venture to draw attention to the issue because research is
commonly identified with marked originality, as though the
two things were intrinsically synonymous. In the case of the
most important research no doubt this is substantially true,
but such research shades off through indistinguishable grada-
tions to a form in which the element of originality is reduced
to the vanishing-point. It would be a fundamentally wrong
inference to assume that because the originality is small there-
fore the results which may be gained are of little value and
that research of this character is to be discountenanced. The
fact is that research work is capable of being organized in
ways not wholly dissimilar to the organization of our great
industries and as such is capable of appropriating and con-
trolling intellectual capacities of the most varied kind.

I would accordingly urge that in our conception of research
we look beyond the peculiar combination of intellectual traits,
which may characterize any one individual, and think of it as

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 27

the organized technique of science itself for its own propaga-
tion. It is, so to speak, the reproductive process of science.
When thus conceived it takes on a far larger and more mo-
mentous aspect than when thought of, as too often at present,
as being a mere appendix to the process of science, a sort of
luxury of the scientific idle rich. Such a conception is false in
practically every essential particular, and yet it is not infre-
quently encountered in acadamic circles, especially where the
traditional humanistic interests are exclusively cultivated.

II. DISTRIBUTION OF RESEARCH FUNCTIONS

At no point in the present administration of research in-
terests in educational institutions is there perhaps more need
for searching analysis of present practises than in the methods,
or lack of methods, whereby particular lines of research are
undertaken. Almost every great university is put in the posi-
tion of attempting to foster all the major fields of research and
an unlimited number of accessory ones. Local pride has re-
peatedly led to the effort to develop forms of research which
may be intrinsically of minor consequence and altogether
anomalous in the regions where they are undertaken. State
institutions are constantly subjected to pressure of this char-
acter, leading to the formation of new departments, some of
which have no substantial justification beyond the gratification
of the ambition of some energetic professor or some small
group whose interests will theoretically be promoted in this
way. There exists at present no adequate device by which an
indefinite continuation of these conditions may be avoided. In-
deed, it is but quite recently that there has grown up any con-
siderable body of opinion recognizing the wastefulness of the
present practises. It is of course a matter of the utmost deli-
cacy, and one calling for great breadth of knowledge and great
sanity of judgment, to attempt in any fashion to allocate re-
sponsibility for particular kinds of research. At the very
outset one is met with the contention that any such artificial
distribution of functions would operate seriously to cripple
individual initiative. And yet the contrary consideration is
quite as urgent. To equip every university in the country to
carry on research in agriculture, in forestry, in all the branches
of engineering, and, for that matter, in all the physical, chem-
ical, and biological sciences, would obviously be wasteful of
equipment and physical resources, and all but impossible of
execution in the matter of personnel. Certain rough lines of

28 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

division are in point of fact at present operative. Some in-
stitutions by mere virtue of the fact that they secured an early
occupancy of a field have developed to a considerable degree of
advancement research work in special directions which might
perhaps have been more advantageously developed elsewhere.
But meantime, being in possession of the property, it would be
ill-advised to attempt to dispossess them. In any event while
it is futile, and were it not futile it would be unwise, to attempt
any arbitrary and coercive methods in the solution of this gen-
eral problem, it is not too much to hope that by intelligent
voluntary cooperation something may be done to safeguard the
situation against an indefinite continuation of the present con-
dition. Through the generosity of the General Education
Board, the Education Division of the National Research Coun-
cil is undertaking a careful study of the actual research facili-
ties of the educational institutions in the country. Some illu-
mination will certainly come from this analysis.

III. PERSONNEL

One of the first prerequisites for a satisfactory adjustment
of the present complications is to be found in improved methods
for the stimulation and selection of research men. There is a
considerable public opinion suspicious of the utility of a great
deal of the research which has been fostered by the government
and by educational institutions. It is a conservative assertion
to say that this opinion has a substantial basis in fact and that
an appreciable part of the output of scientific research in any
given year is of very trifling value from the point of view of
either its immediate or its remote implications. But, as in
most human processes, in order to make sure of the essential
nucleus of valuable research material, we must probably en-
courage a considerably larger amount of productive effort than
we can expect to realize upon at all completely. One hundred
per cent. efficiency in such matters is not to be expected.
Nevertheless, there is every reason to believe that we can ma-
terially improve the present methods of selection for research
careers, and this in two directions: first, by discouraging the
unfit, the second, by giving far more encouragement to those
possessing the necessary native endowment.

In educational institutions, from which come by far the
larger number of research men, it should be possible to estab-
lish filtration methods which will eliminate candidates for re-
search careers who give too little promise of success. At the

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 29

present time the opportunity to carry on research is almost
wholly dependent upon the moral and social initiative of the
individual rather than upon his sheer intellectual endowment.
If he be sufficiently persistent, he may secure opportunity to
be free from portions of his other academic duties in order to
prosecute research. And let no one underestimate tenacity
of purpose in a research career, but it is not the only desider-
atum. I have no panacea to offer for the control of research
privileges, but I should suggest that a more careful scrutiny,
either by research committees or by directors of research,
would assure a more promising allotment of opportunity and
leisure than now exists. No doubt a practical distinction must
be made at this point between the graduate student and the
instructor. Both should be called on to justify their opportuni-
ties for large freedom in research, but the methods for hand-
ling the two cases would differ materially. I recognize at this
point the danger of arbitrary discrimination, but I doubt
whether it is of serious moment. Far more important, in any
case, is the encouragement of the unequivocally gifted research
man. This encouragement should be in part in the form of
public recognition, both inside and outside the academic circle,
and in part should take the form of increased opportunity for
productive work. The National Research Council is at pres-
ent, through the generosity of the Rockefeller Foundation,
making an interesting experiment of this kind in the field of
physics and chemistry by offering to a group of men, who
have already demonstrated their capacity, an opportunity to
give their entire time and attention through several consecu-
tive years to uninterrupted research. It is confidently believed
that this device will gradually produce a group of research
men of the highest quality whose worth will in this apprentice
period have been indubitably establish. If the experiment suc-
ceeds—and a similar procedure which has been in operation in
England for a number of years gives every reason for opti-
mistic prediction—there is no reason why the same principle
should not be applied in other ranges of science. The research
man deserves a living wage, public recognition of the unique
contribution which he makes to social progress, and the best of
opportunities for capitalizing his talents for scientific
discovery.

In certain universities, if one may trust current report,
there is crying need for the creation of a “research atmos-
phere,” with all that it involves of appreciation for the pecu-
liar requirements of the investigator. To plead for this argues

30 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

no callous disregard of the obligation to give instruction, but
it does betoken the fundamental faith in research as the foun-
tain head of creative intelligence, without which all education
must become sterile. The solution of the problem will vary
from institution to institution. In some, research committees,
if energetic and patient, can produce admirable results. In
others, different devices may be preferable. But the research
man must ask if he expects to receive.

IV. TRAINING RESEARCH MEN

Never before has the outlook been so grave for the procure-
ment and training of the required number of research men.
Stimulated in large measure by the experiences of the war, the
great industries, to say nothing of commercial concerns of all
kinds, are calling for expert scientific men often to carry on
explicitly research forms of work, in numbers quite exceeding
the present available supply. They have been raiding college
faculties in a fashion only too well understood by this group
present here to-day. Each one of us can count a score or more
of men among our colleagues who have been tempted away from
the high thinking and distressingly plain living of the academic
life to accept a competency, and often much more, at the hands
of the industries. The tragic part of this transaction is not
that the fine gold of academic self-denial is thus transformed
into a baser social metal—regarding this aspect of the case
most of use, if not envious, would at least be complacently in-
different—but that by the removal of such men from the uni-
versities these institutions, in which at present alone are to be
found proper conditions for the training of scientific research
men, are seriously crippled, with little or no possibility of
making good with any promptness the damage thus done.

One can perhaps hardly blame the leaders of the industries
for taking good men wherever they can find them, and in view
of the low estimate in which college and university men have
generally been held by the great lords of business and industry
there is some poetic justice in seeing them obliged to provide
themselves at a critical stage of their development with a per-
sonnel largely selected from among these previously despised
members of the community. But the suicidal character of this
policy, if carried forward without modification, is too obvious
to require comment. It is surely a short-sighted policy, against
which the experiences of the war give every necessary warn-
ing, to use up at one fell swoop all, or any large part of, the
national resources for producing a trained personnel. Yet this
is exactly what is now going on.

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH dl

Stripped of its equivocations and apologetics, what the case
amounts to is that the universities must by one means or
another be enabled to pay such salaries to their scientific men
and give them such conditions of work as will constitute an
adequate offset to the temptations offered by business and in-
dustrial life. It is known that we desire to encourage the in-
troduction of the highest type of scientific talent wherever it
can be used in commerce and the industries, but as a national
program it is our solemn duty to draw public attention to the
ultimate price we shall pay if we continue the present process.
This price will unquestionably be no less than national scientific
bankruptcy with the inevitable reflex of this in an ineffective
scientific equipment of the industries themselves. Nations
which guide their affairs more sanely in this particular will
certainly outstrip us. If the industries are going to rehabili-
tate themselves in any large degree through improved scientific
methods—and this seems to be what the immediate future has
in store—they must be brought to appreciate that either
through governmental intervention, or through their own direct
contributions, the universities must be kept at a high level of
efficiency in the training which they give to young scientists.

In my judgment this particular association can hardly do
any one thing more useful for the safeguarding and develop-
ing of research interests than by setting its face energetically
to nation-wide propaganda for the speedy betterment of the
conditions of research workers and the trainers of research
workers in universities.

In the minds of most college and university authorities
there seems to be little or no question that the ordinary work of
instruction should go forward side by side with training in
research and with the actual research work of the scholar in
charge. To this view, however, there are not a few vigorous
dissenters. They urge that the conjoining of teaching and
research in American institutions is more or less of a national
accident and that there is no necessary connection between the
two. They insist, and with much force, that to expect a man
to do good research who is obliged to teach several hours a day,
or even every other day, is in many kinds of research work to
expect the impossible. A man needs not only the uninter-
rupted concentration of attention, but in the case of many
types of investigation he must literally be personally present,
watching and controlling the course of the phenomena which
he is studying. It seems more than open to question whether
or not universities have as yet experimented with sufficient

32 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

boldness and ingenuity in devices to assure research workers
time uninterrupted by the routine of instruction. A few so-
called research professorships have indeed been established,
but these are the exception, and their success is not as yet
wholly assured. Is it, however, impracticable to insure to
competent research men for some definite amount of time—say,
six months in the year, or some other convenient period—com-
plete freedom for research work? In institutions whose
schedule permits, some men have been able to free themselves
from class-room work for half the week and in this time to
achieve a large amount of research. Of course the practical
difficulty which the administrative officers are confronted with
is the securing of the necessary amount of instruction to care
for the unlimited number of students who insist upon besieging
our universities. There is in many of these institutions entire
willingness to give the research man reasonable opportunities,
but there is often the insuperable barrier just referred to.

As is well known, there is also an appreciable body of opin-
ion holding that research work should be organized under the
jurisdiction of exclusively research institutes and that it should
not be attempted on any large scale in universities. Whatever
may be said of the ultimate merits of this position, it represents
at the moment a purely academic expression. There are not
institutes enough, and there will not be in any near future, to
care for even a fraction of the research work which must be
done. Moreover, whether the opinion is justified by final expe-
rience or not, it is at present unquestionably the view held by
the vast majority of academic and scientific men that both in-
struction and research are in the last analysis benefited by their
juxtaposition in one institution. Furthermore, it must not be
forgotten that the purely research institution is sterile in the
production of trained personnel. It may train a man in its own
technique within the field of its own endeavor, but it must re-
ceive the recruit from the university already trained in the fun-
damentals of science, and from no other source can this supply
at present be secured. Whether men trained in institutions
that themselves do not conduct the highest forms of research
are generally likely to become successful investigators in the
institutes is a question to which only the most daring would
venture an affirmative reply.

V. ORGANIZATION AND COOPERATION IN RESEARCH

It is a not infrequent remark, and one which I believe to be
measurably just, that science despite its magnification of

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 33

method has never seriously worked out the method of its own
organization. For the most part, it has thus far rested on in-
dividual initiative and on such loose forms of cooperation as
are based upon the magnetic or coercive personality of some one
scientific man. Assuredly, no one expects to create a system
of scientific progress which will in any sense be independent
of the presence of commanding intellects; but it is equally cer-
tain that scientific men have as yet achieved only the most ele-
mentary beginnings of the organization of scientific interests.
Indeed, it has been something of a fetish among scientists that
we must rely upon individual inspiration and initiative, and
that the individual worker must be safeguarded in every pos-
sible way from the corroding influence of administrative or-
ganization. It has unfortunately been generally assumed that
an organization which interests itself in research will inevitably
exercise such a depressive influence on the research worker.
This I believe to be essentially untrue in theory, and I am at
the moment connected with an organization which is directing
all its energies to proving it untrue in fact. No doubt there
will always be wide ranges of scientific work where the indi-
vidual must toil more or less alone, but, on the other hand, no
one who has thoughtfully contemplated the conditions under
which modern science does its work can have failed to be im-
pressed with the innumerable unimproved opportunities for co-
operation.

In the first place, we have, through processes which I need
not stop to describe, parceled out the field of knowledge to a
great group of sciences, each of which, perhaps not unnaturally,
is disposed to claim supreme jurisdiction over its own bit of
territory. The world of science has thus come to present some-
what the appearance of an English landscape with its checker-
board effect of small fields set off from one another by high,
impenetrable hedges. To one who toils inside such a field, the
universe is limited by his own hedgerow, and inside it he de-
sires to be left in peace to cultivate his crop as best may suit
him. The parable has of course its element of exaggeration, but
it is unfortunately not so much exaggerated as one might wish,
and there are not a few scientists whose thought and speech
would seem to indicate an amazing lack of appreciation of the
intellectual context of their own work.

The actual fact, of course, is that the dividing lines of science
are, like the hedgerows, in large measure arbitrary and prac-
tical, and consequently subject to persistent modification.
Practically speaking, chemistry and physics are profitably con-

VOL. x.— 38.

»

34 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ducted as separate sciences, and yet they overlap and impinge
upon one another in ways which have already created the
border science of physical chemistry. Botany and zoology have
similar relationships. Chemistry and physiology are neighbors
of the most intimate kind. Psychology and neurology can
hardly get along the one without the other, and so it goes.
Under the present organization of science—or lack of it—there
is no localized responsibility for bringing together in cooper-
ative enterprises research workers occupying fields that are
thus convergent or overlapping. There is genuine need for
such cooperative work in many different directions, and one of
the first obligations of any method adopted to further the gen-
eral interests of scientific research must be the providing for
investigations which shall thus bring together the scientists
now occupying neighboring but distinct fields.

Obviously organization in research must involve something
substantially different from organization in enterprises of
other kinds, for example, war, industry, sport, and exploration.
Organization, I take it, looks primarily to the efficient muster-
ing of all the resources available for a given undertaking, and
as the ends desired vary, so do the means for their attainment.
In war the individuality of the private soldier must be in large
measure subordinated to the conceptions of the high command,
and while any ideas he may have to offer may theoretically be
received, in practise his initiative is reduced close to the zero
point through the larger part of his service. Obedience, rather
than initiative, is the first military virtue. Similarly in in-
dustry, ideas are desired and generally encouraged, but never-
theless in the stress of the day’s work each individual workman
must play his previously assigned part, play it promptly and
without debate, become in short a cog in the great machine;
otherwise production is blocked and economic disaster may be
the result. Initiative and ingenuity are essential at the top of
the organization. Moreover, ideas supplied from workers at
any level of the process are welcome in progressive industries,
but the actual application of them to the procedure in hand
must ordinarily come from above and the individual unit in the
machine must function more or less mechanically.

Evidently organization in research calls for quite a dif-
ferent distribution of effort. Individual initiative, resource-
fulness, ingenuity, imagination, vision, must be kept at a high
pitch all along the line. Here we are not concerned with quan-
tity production of a stereotyped product, of which the hundred
thousandth specimen shall exactly resemble the first. On the

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 35

contrary, the product is in some sense constantly varied, and
unless it prove to be varied, the process has failed of its pur-
pose, has degenerated into mere hack work, or has been based
on essentially mistaken principles. On the other hand, the
conception not infrequently entertained that the research man
is necessarily the genius working in seclusion is essentially un-
true to most of the facts. Many a genius works in seclusion
and all research men must be free to work undisturbed at the
task in hand; but there are many forms of scientific problems,
whose solution is essential to the modern world, which are so
complex that no one scientist is equipped to deal with them
single-handed. Either they must wait for their solution upon
the accidental arousal of interest in the appropriate group or
there must be some definite purposeful cooperation established.
The great fundamental discoveries may perhaps, as a rule,
await the wholly spontaneous efforts of the great genius, but
many discoveries of the utmost value to humanity have come
from the somewhat accidental observations of men of essen-
tially moderate talents. And not only so, but a very large frac-
tion of the progress in our scientific knowledge in the last fifty
years has come, not from the work of the occasional genius, but
from the hard, persistent, thoughtful investigations of men
who would never be classed as geniuses in any ordinary sense,
but rather as trained men of large native ability. This group
of men is more often than not eager for those forms of contact
with other scientific workers which shall enlarge their own out-
look upon the problems with which they are engaged and which
shall enable them to pursue more effectively their individual
researches. For such men betterment of the machinery of
scientific cooperation and the dissemination of useful scientific
information not only involves no invasion of their individual
initiative, but often is the condition of its successful expression.

To put it in slightly different form and at the risk of repe-
tition, one may say that a fairly prevalent conception of re-
search associates it with the somewhat mystical intellectual
operations of the genius, or “near-genius,” to tamper with
which is a kind of profanation. In this view one must simply
wait upon the deliverances of fate. To attempt to assist by any
devices of organization is futile. As a matter of fact, large
areas of the most needed research lie in territory where prop-
erly trained men of talent, given proper conditions of work,
may produce constantly and in increasing measure results of
the utmost consequence. But one of the conditions of maximal
efficiency is that they shall work inside the framework of a gen-

36 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

eral program in which there is intelligent cooperation in the
allocation of the field and in the constant communication of re-
sults achieved. Such distribution of responsibility and effort
is entirely consonant with the fullest actual initiative which
any scientist can desire. No one compels him to investigate
where he does not desire so to do, but by a centralized device
for planning he can make his effort count for far more than
when he works wholly alone. This is as true of the zones of
pure science as it is of the regions of applied science where
organization is often thought of as less foreign to the ends
sought. Indeed in the research laboratories of a few of the
great industries such cooperation has produced the most re-
markable results.

Even if organization in research meant no more than
thoughtful discussion and planning among a group of men en-
gaged in the same lines of work, it would be immensely worth
while. For example, here are a dozen forestry experts in posi-
tion to determine the research problems which shall be first
attacked by the staffs of a dozen different organizations. If
there be no contact among them, they may all decide to start
upon exactly the same problem or upon utterly disconnected
problems. Undoubtedly, some excellent result may emerge
under such conditions. Yet nothing is more certain than that
the energies of the entire company could have been invested to
far better purpose with much less of wasted effort had there
been intelligent planning before work began. There is abun-
dant practical experience to justify this conclusion. Repeat-
edly it has occurred that men working in entire ignorance of
what others in their field were doing have traversed the same
ground and with results which in no wise justified the wasted
effort.

But, as a matter of fact, organization in research means
much more than this. Many highly important projects, as we
have observed before, involve for their execution the converg-
ing efforts of men in different fields of science and in applied
science in particular. The agencies interested in improvement
of methods must at times come together to set in motion the
necessary research work, or it will not get done. Further-
more, the technique for the prompt and convenient dissemina-
tion of information regarding discoveries in research is at
present lamentably imperfect, and we shall never capitalize our
scientific energies at anything like their full value until this
condition is removed.

As a matter of fact, cooperation in research may be profit-

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 37

ably developed, first, as between scientists working upon re-
lated problems in the same general field, say, physics; second,
as between scientists in different but adjacent fields, e. g.,
chemistry and biology; third, as between scientists in different
countries, where such cooperation is often essential to success;
fourth, as between agencies like the industries requiring the
benefits of research; fifth, as between organizations, e. g., gov-
ernment bureaus, experiment stations, and universities; and
sixth, by improvements in methods of rendering easily ac-
cessible information regarding scientific discoveries.

As practical illustrations of the type of thing we have in
mind certain of the problems of public health may be men-
tioned; for example, sewage disposal presents a question in
which the organic chemist, the colloid chemist, and the sanitary
engineer are all necessarily involved. The National Research
Council has secured the services of a very representative com-
mittee to study the fundamental problems of food and nutri-
tion, a problem which in this same way represents the com-
bined interests of a considerable group of sciences. The suc-
cessful solution of the problem can not be reached without the
cooperation of men representing these distinct but related fields
of science. One of the most promising ranges of contemporary
research is in that border-line group of problems in which the
biologist, the chemist, and the medical scientist find their in-
terests converging. A physiological chemist, however learned
he may be, is compelled to turn from time to time for scientific
assistance to one or another specialist in this group of neigh-
boring sciences. Indeed, it is practically impossible to pitch
upon any problem in modern life whose complete solution does
not involve an appeal to several lines of scientific approach. In
certain cases, through more or less happy accident, the required
scientific cooperation is easily secured, but in many instances
there has been no adequate provision for securing such com-
bined attack.

Again, within the field of any one of the great sciences,
there is opportunity for a kind of cooperation in research which
has never been undertaken on any large scale and which can,
if properly stimulated and guided, produce results of the high-
est consequence. For example, there is at the present moment
being considered by the National Research Council a nation-
wide investigation of the problem of reforestation such as no
extant single agency can hopefully attack. Similarly, it is
planned to study the problems of soil fertilizers in different
regions of the country by means of cooperative effort in a con-
siderable group of appropriate agencies.

38 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

In certain ranges of science there is not only necessity for
the cooperation of individual scientists working on different
aspects of the same central problem, but there is also need for
international cooperation. One only needs to cite such prob-
lems as those of astronomy, seismology, meteorology, and ter-
restrial magnetism to appreciate how essential simultaneous
observations at various points of the earth’s surface may be.
In such cases international cooperation is absolutely indis-
pensable. Nor are the forms of profitable international scien-
tific cooperation in research confined to the spheres of astron-
omy and the major phenomena of the behavior of the earth’s
surface. The study of the behavior of plants and animals under
certain standard conditions will afford numerous instances in
point.

Perhaps the most obvious illustrations of the possibilities of
successful cooperative investigation are represented in certain
forms of industrial research, where a group of producers come
together and establish a research organization, either estab-
lishing laboratories of their own for this purpose or utilizing
extant laboratories through which they can arrange for the ad-
mittance of their investigators. It is of course well understood
that certain of the great manufacturing industries, particularly
those connected with the development of electricity, have de-
veloped laboratories of the most elaborate kind and of a very
high degree of efficiency. But the smaller concern can not af-
ford to develop its own scientific staff, and consequently the
cooperative device is found to be the best substitute. This
process, which has been carried to a considerable development
in Great Britain, is being rapidly fostered in this country, and
gives promise of extremely valuable results. Several different
methods of procedure are feasible, but time will not permit
further discussion of the matter here.

Finally, one may mention the types of cooperation in re-
search which may be achieved by the establishment of more
intimate contact between the organizations and institutions
now actually engaged in such work. As has been already indi-
cated, we have at present, as the main features of our national
research equipment, certain of the scientific bureaus of the fed-
eral government and the several states, certain large research
foundations, including a few of the great museums, a group of
research enterprises in the industries, and the research work
done in our universities. In each of these, individuals are at
work on problems which, so far as is known to the men engaged
upon them, are at the moment not under attack elsewhere.

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 39

But our present organization is totally devoid of any adequate
means for securing information as to the research work at a
given time in progress. In consequence, it repeatedly happens
that men are found to have been working on common problems,
investing time and energy which might have been expended
to far better effect could they have been brought in touch with
one another and have learned each what the other had to give
in the way of knowledge already ascertained. In the case of
the industrial laboratory, both the economics and the ethics of
the case render it improper that information should be dis-
seminated as to what is being learned. Even scientific men
working alone as individuals have oftentimes been extremely
jealous of their prerogatives in the matter of priority of scien-
tific discovery, and have treated their work somewhat in the
- spirit of the trade secret of the industries. But over against
this relatively small group there has always been a larger and
more open-minded body of scientists eager to learn whatever
could be brought to bear upon their own researches and willing
and ready to communicate to others whatever they had to offer
of worth. Generally speaking, the ethics of scientific research
outside the industrial laboratory is rapidly coming to a point
which commends and demands publicity. Indeed, it may be
said that this condition has already substantially arrived. Men
are eager for more prompt and adequate means of publication
of scientific work, and one of the crying defects in the scientific
situation as a whole, one which is far more serious in some
branches of science than in others, is the need, first, for a cen-
tral clearing-house of information regarding current research
work and its status from month to month and year to year; and
second, far more complete and more effective modes of publica-
tion of scientific results. Publication needs to be more prompt
and needs to be accompanied by much more adequate methods
of abstracting and indexing than at present are in operation.
To these problems, also, the National Research Council, through
its Division of Research Information, is turning its hand, and
we hope to be able not only to point the way to better condi-
tions, but also to make a substantial beginning in the actual
improvement of these conditions. I will not pause to discuss
the entire program of this service, but I may simply say in
passing that it contemplates catalogues of research labora-
tories and of current investigations, sources of information,
laboratory facilities, catalogues of scientific and technical socie-
ties with indexes of foreign reports, and a somewhat detailed
program for the improvement of scientific publications, with
particular regard to systems of abstracting and indexing.

40 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

VI. ORGANIZATION OF NATIONAL RESEARCH COUNCIL

To assist in meeting some of the needs of scientific organi-
zation in the United States, the National Research Council has
been organized. It attempts to achieve in a democracy, and
by democratic methods, such a mobilization of the scientific
resources of the country as shall permit their most effective
use, not only in times of crisis such as war, but also continu-
ously in time of peace. The German government had succeeded
under autocratic methods in carrying such organization to a
high degree of perfection and had procured the most striking
results, not only in the military administration, but also
throughout the entire field of industry. Whether we shall be
equally successful under the voluntary extra-governmental plan
which we are developing remains to be seen. It may, however,
be said at the outset that, rightly or wrongly, the opinion of
scientific men is substantially unanimous that in our country
an enterprise of this character can reach its highest possibili-
ties only when freed from the restraint of government control.
This, however, should in no wise be understood as reflecting
upon the efficiency of the scientific work carried on by the
various departments of the government. It does, however,
argue a widespread conviction based on experience that these
departments, despite their many great advantages, must of
necessity work under limitations of a very definite and often
unfortunate kind.

As the first step in securing a democratic foundation, the
National Research Council is based upon the election of mem-
bers by the great scientific societies of the nation, some forty
being represented in the present roster with a constituent per-
sonnel running up into the thousands. These representatives
from the scientific societies are organized in divisions, of which
there are seven representing science and technology. Each
such division elects a chairman, who becomes a salaried officer
of the council, resident in Washington for one year, and in
charge, together with an executive committee of his division,
of the scientific work to which the division decides to set its
hand. Provision is made for a certain number of members of
each division to be selected at large, thereby insuring as far as
possible the presence of a thoroughly representative scientific
group, for it may at times happen that some important scien-
tific interest is by accident omitted in the elections from the
societies.

THE ORGANIZATION OF RESEARCH 41

The council has also six so-called general divisions whose
officials are appointed by the executive board of the council,
and who conduct the work of the divisions much as in the case
of the science and technology group. The personnel of these
divisions is determined by the executive board, with the excep-
tion of a few persons who are ex officio members. These di-
visions cover foreign relations, the federal government, the
states relations, education, industrial relations, and research
information. The Government Division has representatives of
each of the scientific bureaus of the government, and is in-
tended to foster, so far as possible, cooperation among such
bureaus and among the outside scientific agencies working on
similar problems. The Foreign Relations Division has to do
with foreign scientific societies. An International Research
Council was established at Brussels during the past summer
and will take the place of the old international associations and
unions which, in forms somewhat modified by the war, will
comprise the international unions organized under the Inter-
national Research Council. The States Relations Division con-
cerns itself with the attempt to foster helpful cooperative
relations among the scientific bureaus and other scientific or-
ganizations of the several states. There appears to be oppor-
tunity here for an outside disinterested agency to render very
great assistance. The Educational Division has to do with the
interests of research in educational institutions in all its
aspects. This division is beginning its work by a careful
study of the actual facilities for research in our American edu-
cational institutions. It is hoped that by bringing together
reliable information about these conditions it may be possible
to formulate a more effective program for the utilization of
such resources as we now enjoy, for the improvement of the
same and for the development of a larger number of better-
trained research men. Any rational adjustment of the pro-
gram of research development in our universities, such as was
referred to earlier in this paper, involves a careful preliminary
scrutiny of the extant situation. There are some types of
research work whose development can be justified only at a
limited number of institutions. To have a great group of uni-
versities each attempting to do such work is wasteful of per-
sonnel and material resources alike. We shall hardly, how-
ever, be able to move on to a saner distribution of scientific
effort until we know more precisely what are the actual facts
in the case, much less can we educate public opinion to accept
a reasonable distribution of responsibility.

42 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The Research Extension Division has as its work the
stimulation of research in the industries. It seeks particu-
larly to bring into contact industrial groups interested in im-
proving their scientific technique, with scientific men and
agencies competent to render the necessary assistance.

The Research Information Service involves a program in
many ways the most nearly unique which the council has to
offer, in its attempt to create mechanisms for giving prompt
and accurate information regarding, not only the finished
products of research of all kinds and in all parts of the world,
but also the conditions in current research. Its general inten-
tions have already been briefly described and need not be re-
peated.

Taken in its entirety the work of the council is to be under-
stood as primarily one of stimulation of research in both pure
and applied science, and in the creation of an enlarged and
better-trained research personnel, with particular emphasis
upon the securing of cooperation wherever this can be profit-
ably accomplished—cooperation as described above among
scientists in the same field working on different aspects of a
common problem; cooperation among scientists in different
fields, whether at home or abroad, studying a group of related
problems; cooperation among research organizations; and,
finally, cooperation among agencies which require the services
of research men and research organizations.

The council is itself frankly a piece of research, a great ex-
periment, whose outcome we await with undisguised interest.
Its purposes are worthy beyond question. If its methods be
unsound, better ones must and will be devised. Meantime it
invites your sympathetic support and offers you whatever
service it can render.

AGASSIZ’S ESSAY ON CLASSIFICATION 43

AGASSIZ’S ESSAY ON CLASSIFICATION FIFTY
YEARS AFTER’

By EUGENE R. CORSON, M.D.
SAVANNAH, GA.

T is well occasionally to go back to the old books. A differ-
if ent style, a use of words which have changed their mean-
ing, a different atmosphere, in a way, carry you back at once,
and you find yourself in new touch with the subject, but with
the many advantages which the newer knowledge and the larger
horizon have brought to bear. The original power is there
still, as attracting, as compelling as ever: that can never change
or fade, no matter what the mere information conveyed may
be. But the real searcher will always find the information.
The world seems ever ready to forget all but sharp and bare
outlines, yet it is often the apparently minor details, slightly
noticed at the time and quickly forgotten, which are the real
treasure trove. I have found this to be the case in medicine
even, where the changes and the new ideas are running ahead
pell-mell.

Nearly fifty years ago when a student of zoology and com-
parative anatomy, I read Agassiz’s ‘‘ Essay on Classification.”
I can remember the pleasure it gave me, in spite of the fact
that the entire scientific world was under the spell of Darwin,
Huxley, Tyndall and Spencer, in England, and Haeckel in Ger-
many. To me the book was a great book, no matter what ideas
the author entertained of the Creation.

Evolution was the watchword; matter and force, Kraft und
Stoff, seemed quite wholly to satisfy the scientific mind, even
with its ignorance of what matter and force really were. Tyn-
dall gave expression to the prevailing thought at the time in
his Belfast address before the British Association. In a sen-
tence long remembered, he declared:

By a necessity engendered and justified by science, I cross the boun-
dary of the experimental evidence, and discern in that Matter, which we

1“ An Essay on Classification.” By Louis Agassiz, London, 1859. As
stated in the preface, dated December 2, 1858, this essay first appeared as
an introduction to a much larger work entitled, “ Contributions to the Nat-
ural History of the United States.” Three volumes, quarto. Two volumes
had already appeared and the third volume was in the press.

44 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in our ignorance of its latent powers, and notwithstanding our professed
reverence for its Creator, have hitherto covered with Opprobrium, the
promise and potency of all terrestrial Life.

Examined in the light of to-day the words seem to have lost
much of their force and meaning: the sentence sounds grandilo-
quent and has lost its sting. Remember at the time it caused a
great cry of indignation from both England and America, ver-
itable hornet’s nests of criticism. Its materialism seems very
mild now. As a matter of fact there can be no terrestrial life
without the promise and potency of matter, whatever way you
look at it. The uncalled-for assumption that the world covered
matter with opprobrium still further weakens it. The world
was quite well satisfied with matter, too well satisfied, perhaps;
it was a glorious thing, with a glory of its own, only, as many
great souls thought, there was a greater glory back of it. I
really believe Tyndall thought so too, only he was just fooling
himself! Certainly his materialism could not be compared with
the lifeless and soulless “monism” of the German.

Agassiz’s students and admirers, while speaking in glowing
terms of the great naturalist, his learning and scholarship, his
enthusiasm, his wonderful knowledge of animal life, the inten-
sity of his devotion to his work, yet deplored his refusal to ac-
cept the Darwinian theory as then set forth, an evolution of
organic forms from the lowest to the highest, under the influ-
ence of the physical conditions as we saw them.

Darwin’s “ Origin of Species” appeared in 1859, an epochal
work truly when compared with the previous developments in
the natural sciences. It seemed to cut the Gordian knot of the
mysteries of Creation. It brought to its support a great host
of enthusiastic workers, ever ready to support it and find new
proofs of its truth. To the German mind it was both appealing
and compelling. It was ranked with Newton’s law; it was ac-
cepted as explaining the entire scheme of life; the mystery of
life itself seemed to disappear under the magic of the new
conception.

At the time I read Haeckel’s ‘“ Die Natiirliche Schopfung-
geschichte,” and without a question my young mind accepted it.
The captivating descriptions of the forms of life and their de-
velopment carried with them an acceptance of the general rea-
soning and deductions. The German world of thought and sci-
ence had fascinated and captivated the rest of the world.
Students in every branch of learning were flocking to the Ger-
man universities. It had become the medical center for all
aspiring to the higher medicine; that the German mind was
not a creative or even an inventive one, mattered not; that

AGASSIZ’S ESSAY ON CLASSIFICATION 45

through its genius for details and acquisition it had accom-
plished marvels in the physical sciences, but at the expense of
the interior divinity, mattered not.

The beauty and wonder of Darwin’s works were the careful
and minute descriptions and comparisons, and the wealth of
illustrations which he brought to bear in support of his thesis,
with the theories and deductions much in the background.
These he left largely to his followers. If he wanted a contro-
versialist what better one could he find than Huxley. If he
wanted the development of the theory on a larger scale, there
was Spencer to spread the glad tidings world wide. Certainly
he found in Ernst Haeckel the most enthusiastic and compel-
ling follower and advocate who outheroded Herod in the phys-
ical aspects of the question. His trumpet blew a reveille then,
a trumpet, which to my ears, as I read of his death in the last
few days, seemed to be sounding taps. His earlier works and
investigations of the lower and lowest forms of life are indeed
all-embracing, but his philosophical writings are a hopeless
logomachy, leading nowhere, a long trail into the bad lands,
with no way out of the desert. There is a monism which is the
basis of the Eastern philosophy and which has even found its
way into the “‘ De Imitatione Christi,’”* all-embracing, the fullest
expression of Spinoza’s immanent God. MHaeckel, in his aver-
sion to any Deity, had taken a very small bit of it and called it
“monism.” The Eastern monist readily accepts the essential
unity of the organic and so-called inorganic worlds, but in a
vastly different sense from the German’s idea. To the former
it is all the one manifestation of the universal and divine mind,
to the latter his “‘monism” was but the apotheosis of matter
itself, as he saw it and worked in it all his life.

Steeped as he was in his own materialism, he could see no
good faith nor sense in those who differed from him and looked
beyond. In his “ History of Creation ” he took occasion to refer
to Agassiz’s attitude as insincere.

And now as I re-read this essay, I find that my whole men-
tal attitude has changed. Darwin, Huxley and Haeckel fade
out in a way and I see a great naturalist, certainly as well
equipped as his opponents, as profound, as keen an observer—
and whose voluminous works bear witness to his master mind—
who has reached conclusions totally different. It is when it
comes to the real vital question facing us that these minds
differ. Go into the alcove in a great library and take down the
works of Agassiz, his “ Fossil Fishes,” his ‘‘ Contributions to

2 Lib. 1, Cap. 3.

46 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the Natural History of the United States,” and others too many
to mention here, and we know that such a life’s work shows not
one day wasted.

Haeckel had the advantage of a much longer life, yet he can
show no greater industry, nor more accomplished. Haeckel is
eager to give the world his philosophy, wretched as it is, offer-
ing nothing, not even husks for the swine to eat. Agassiz has
no such desire, nor, as he tells us, has he time to be a philoso-
pher outside his special field. His love of nature and of the
Divine mind which he saw in nature filled his life completely
as a naturalist.

This Essay on Classification may well have been placed at
the head of the Bridgewater Treatises, but Agassiz could not
be limited simply by the adaptation of means to ends, upon
which these treatises were based; or the argument derived from
the connection of organs and functions, for beyond certain
limits it is not even true. A rudimentary and useless organ
remains “not for the performance of a function, but with refer-
ence to plan.” Notice the use of the word “plan” instead of
“type,” something pre-arranged, and yet a type, too. “So
careful of the type she seems.” The thought shows a great
advance in the knowledge of animal forms over the old knowl-
edge as expressed in the Bridgewater Treatises. While Agassiz:
sees in the rudimentary and functionless organ a proof of the
separate creation of the type, and its careful preservation, Dar-
win sees an argument for his ‘‘ descent with modification,” and
his ‘‘ principle of successive slight variation.”

Admirable as Sir Charles Bell’s “Treatise on the Hand”
was, both zoology and comparative anatomy had grown since
his day, and a greater naturalist had a greater knowledge and
a wider horizon before him. This advance was due to the de-
velopments in embryology, comparative anatomy and the micro-
scope, and the many new forms of life described by the many
workers in the field.

With the purely technical portions of the “Essay” I shall
not deal; to the public generally Agassiz’s spiritual attitude, his
own philosophy of life, and what nature meant to him, is of
greater interest, and of greater importance. In section 382
there is a re-capitulation of the entire first chapter, a chapter,
by the way, which takes up more than half the book. He gives
us here in a clear and emphatic way the reasons for his views,
the features of nature as he saw them which compelled him
to take the stand he took against a tidal wave of thought which
had submerged all branches of science. There were few op-
posing voices in the universities: while the opposition came

AGASSIZ’S ESSAY ON CLASSIFICATION 47

largely from the religious world, there were many who saw no
antagonism with religion.

For Agassiz, recognized as a great naturalist, a Harvard
professor, a leader in his own field, this opposition showed a
courage and an independence which only a great mind could
command. In the recapitulation of his argument he gives us
thirty-one features of the animal world as he saw it. He could
see but one great system with the simultaneous existence of
the most diversified types under identical circumstances, and
with the repetition of similar types under the most diversified
conditions. And there is ever before him this great unity of
plan in otherwise highly diversified types, these types showing
correspondences or special homologies in details of structure
to the most minute peculiarities in animals otherwise entirely
disconnected; and again degrees and kinds of relationships
which can have no geneological connection. From the stand-
point of geology he sees the simultaneous existence in the earli-
est periods of representatives of all the great types, with grada-
tions based upon complications of structure in animals built
upon the same plan. Then there is the distribution of some
types over the most extensive surface of the globe with others
in limited areas; and again, combinations of these types into
provinces of unequal extent, and again, identity of structure
in animals otherwise entirely different, yet living within the
same geographical areas. He sees wonderful series of special
structures in animals widely scattered. He sees relations be-
tween the size of animals and their structure and form, and
the independence in their size of the mediums in which they
live. He dwells at length upon the permanence of specified
peculiarities under every variety of external influences during
each geological period, as well as at the present age, while at
the same time, there is a definite relation of animals to the sur-
rounding world and between individuals of the same species.
He shows us that, while animals undergo apparently great
changes during their growth, there is always a definite limita-
tion of the range of changes. He sees design in the unequal
limitation in the average duration of the lives of individuals of
different species, and the return to a definite norm of animals
which multiply in various ways.

Agassiz as the geologist was strongly convinced that the
records all favored design and mind in the conception of the
Creation. He emphasizes the order of succession of the differ-
ent types of animals and plants characteristic of the different
geological epochs, and the localization of some types upon some
points of the globe during successive geological periods, as well

48 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

as the limitation of closely allied species to different geological
periods; and so finally he traces a parallelism between the order
of succession of animals and plants in geological times, and
the gradation among their living representatives; and again,
a parallelism between the order of succession of animals in
geological times and the changes their living representatives
undergo in their embryological growth; and again, finally, a
parallelism between the gradation among animals and the
changes they undergo during their growth. He even traces
the combination in many extinct types of characters which in
later ages appeared disconnected in different types, and the re-
lations between these different series and the geographical
distribution.

And finally he sees in the mutual dependence of animals and
plants for their maintenance, and the dependence of some ani-
mals upon others or upon plants, a definite proof of design and
of the divine mind.

All these features he described and elaborated in the pre-
ceding corresponding sections dwelling upon the modes of mind
which they suggest and characterize—creative, purposeful, pro-
phetic, consecutive, and sustained mind, in conformity with a
plan laid out before. To him the creative mind is “independent
of the influence of a material world.” In mind he sees the
mind of a Creator and a God of Love.’

And again he sums it up in these words:

All organized beings exhibit in themselves all those categories of struc-
ture and of existence upon which a natural system may be founded, in

such a manner that, in tracing it, the human mind is only translating into
human language the Divine thoughts expressed in nature in living realities.

Agassiz did not accept the Biblical story of creation, nor
that sexual relations determine species. He writes:

When first created, animals of the same species paired because they
were made the one for the other; they did not take one another in order to
build up their species, which had full existence before the first individual
produced by sexual connection was born (page 253).

And again:

For my part, I can not conceive how moral philosophers, who urge the
unity of Man as one of the fundamental principles of their religion, can
at the same time justify the necessity which it involves of a sexual inter- -
course between the nearest blood relatives of that assumed first and unique

3JIn this contrast of views it should ever be borne in mind that the
unbiased reader can not find in the “ Origin of Species” any real irreligion
or denial of a Creator. The difference lay wholly in creative methods or
views of the Godhead.

AGASSIZ’S ESSAY ON CLASSIFICATION 49

human family, when such a connection is revolting even to the Savage
(page 254).

On the contrary, Agassiz contended that the evidence shows
more and more strongly that animals originated in large num-
bers in disconnected geographical areas. Certainly the assump-
tion of the first appearance of many scattered species involves
no greater difficulties than that of the first animals appearing
in pairs.

Agassiz constantly contends that what really exists are in-
dividuals, not species, a very subtle distinction which is in com-
plete harmony with his conception of the whole animal creation.
The study of the individual is the very keynote of nature study.
The further we get from the individual, the nearer we come to
the abstract. Those who contend that the individual is nothing
and the mass everything, forget that zero multiplied by one
million equals zero.

All students of zoology should read this essay for its clear
and concise descriptions of the natural divisions among animals,
namely, species, genera, families, orders, classes and types.

The description and analyses of the development of zoology,
and the various systems of classifications, are characterized by
a judicious calmness, and a considerate and even generous treat-
ment of views which he could not accept.

Cuvier, who first brought to notice the four great types,
and whose vast researches in the entire domain of zoology and
paleontology placed these sciences on a permanent foundation,
he regarded as the master mind of all the naturalists; he con-
stantly refers to his indebtedness to him; he writes feelingly
of his debt to Ignatius Déllinger, in whose home in Munich he
spent four years of study; he regarded him as the founder of
the modern science of embryology, and whom Pander and K. E.
von Baer also acknowledged as their master; from him Agassiz
learned the value and the possibilities of embryology, and were
he to see to-day the marvelous advances of this science, I doubt
if they would exceed his own prophetic vision.

The opponents of Agassiz, however bitter their criticism,
could not deny his own equipment for his work either by educa-
tion or natural ability; his works speak for themselves, and no
matter what his individual views and theories may have been,
there are the volumes, a storehouse of faithful observations,
descriptive, comparative, comprehensive, and illustrated by
drawings which have never been excelled, an inspiration for
future workers for many, many years to come. There is this
resemblance between Agassiz and Darwin, that they were both

voL. x.—.

50 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

absorbed throughout their lives in the study of animal forms
and animal life, and that they had little time for theories and
philosophies. I doubt if Darwin ever dreamed of the extent to
which his followers as well as his critics would go.

Of the many phases of this evolution, of the many concep-
tions entertained, be it in the religious world, or in the universi-
ties, or by the man in the street, it was an evolution on a physi-
cal plane wholly, under the influences of the elements, of
natural selection, of sexual selection, of a struggle for survival,
of a survival of the fittest. To some the most devout, it was
not inconsistent with orthodox religion; to many rationalists it
was consistent with the highest Theism, witness the fine think-
ing of John Fiske; to the scientific world in general, and irre-
spective of any religious aspect, the theory as it stood was a
foundation for all future research, a key to unlock many pres-
ent and future secrets. Indeed its real opponents did not base
their opposition on the ground of atheism, but because they
thought evolution, as then conceived, to be in complete conflict
with the universe as they saw it.

It was natural indeed that Darwin should find a complete
acceptance in Germany, that Darwinismus should become a
school of philosophy, elaborated and reelaborated with nothing
left but Kraft und Stoff. And the world at large, fascinated
by the marvelous intellectual activity of Germany, its amazing
industry in research and the most minute investigation, aided
by the most perfectly constructed instruments of observation
and precision, should turn towards this great Mecca of science
with a beating heart and with all confidence. For those who
sought these perfected sciences it was the place to go. But it
took the bloodiest war in history to show the world that marvels
in the physical sciences, obtained at the expense of the interior
divinity, must lead to ruin. We see it in the nation as a whole;
we see it even more strikingly in the attitude towards the war
of the most prominent scientific men—and even among the
clergy—an attitude favoring a policy as cruel, as relentless, as
world-destructive, as that of the arrogant and brutalized mili-
tary class in power. Haeckel in particular showed this spirit;
he signed a circular in 1916 demanding the retirement of von
Bethmann-Holweg, arraigning him for his attitude of concilia-
tion with England at the beginning of the war, his acceptance
of Belgian neutrality, and his opposition to unrestricted sub-
marine warfare. Such an attitude seems well in keeping with
his philosophy of life, which saw no other creation but a casual,
efficient, inevitable, correlation of cells, starting from the one

.

AGASSIZ’S ESSAY ON CLASSIFICATION 51

cell, whose psychic properties were the beginning of the psy-
chism of man. And after man, what? Nothing, not even
darkness visible. Surely this was evolution run riot; it was
the old story of giving a beggar a horse to ride to the devil.

Now the greatest wonder of it all is that this evolution of
the Western world is but a distorted echo or image of a higher
evolution, taught by the East thousands of years ago, an evolu-
tion on a spiritual plane which we were to see only in a broken
and partly disjointed form on our own plane of matter. But
the East which is nothing if it is not logical and philosophical,
and which must carry its logic and philosophy even to the An-
tipodes and to the ends of the worlds, taught an evolution and
an involution; that what was evolved must eventually be in-
volved; that the effect must go back to the cause; that cause
and effect are really one; that every organic form as we see it
has its spiritual prototype, a sort of spiritual blue-print, which
must be copied to the minutest of the minutest detail. Though
from a different starting point and from a different standpoint,
it is the same as the Agassiz idea. This is surely better than
the idea of life as a casual concourse of atoms; that out of a
mass of vitalized sand and mortar a great living temple can be
built up without any prototype or blue-print.

And this higher evolution seems to be in complete accord
with the developments in molecular physics, a science which
has become a true fairy tale, built up by the imagination of the
higher mathematics, and which only the real mathematician
may read and enjoy. It teaches an evolution of the elements,
but it is on the etheric plane. The atom has become the atom
of negative electricity; matter as we see it is a manufactured
article, made by some one, and the only One, and made out of
the invisible, into which it must eventually go back; that from
hydrogen to gold is only many steps; that in the chemical re-
action we see only the last step, and that it must take the inner
eye to see the first; and that this is not only an idle dream,
modern researches into electricity and radiant matter show.

I can not conceive of the universe except in terms of evolu-
tion and the figure of the circle. Evolution is everywhere: but
it makes a great difference how we view this evolution and the
forces or powers at work, whether from an earthly standpoint
or from a little back of this earth as we see it. I can conceive
of a higher evolution where all the steps or links are perfect, of
which we can get but an imperfect expression: and I can easily
imagine the two great minds of Agassiz and Darwin brought
into accord on a middle ground by this higher evolution.

52 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

This evolution Agassiz surely could have accepted. Did he
know Emerson well? Emerson could have taught him, Emer-
son to whom the Song Celestial was an open book.

Tyndall, in speaking of Agassiz’s opposition to the theory
of evolution as then set forth, mentions his visit to Cambridge,
and his meeting Agassiz at a dinner party in Brookline, and
Agassiz remarking in a sad way:

I confess that I was not prepared to see this theory received as it has
been by the best intellects of our time; its success is greater than I could
have thought possible.

But Agassiz stood as adamant. What Agassiz fought, I
repeat, was an evolution on our physical plane.

As we look back these fifty years, surely the most wonderful
changes have taken place. From Tyndall’s day our whole con-
ception of matter has been changed. Then it was indestruct-
ible: now we see the same matter resolving into its original
invisible substance—the real substance. Then the elements
were distinct and absolutely defined: now we know that the al-
chemists’ dream of the transmutation of metals was not entirely
an idle dream, however futile their efforts to bring it true.

I believe I am well within the truth when I state that the
prevailing ideas on evolution as then taught have also under-
gone a change: that we are seeing, though perhaps dimly, the
possibilities of an evolution just back of matter and life as we
see it: that the ether, and spirit in whatever way we may try
to conceive it, are the real substance, uninfluenced by cold and
heat, and pressure, and all other physical conditions which we
see affecting the matter of the laboratory and of the ground we
walk upon; and finally, that the subtle changes of organic evo-
lution must also be back of this physical plane, the form and
quality of life appearing at that time and place best suited for
its functioning. I can not help feeling that Agassiz’s heroic
stand, even with a Scotch verdict, has been justified by the
years which have passed by.

Whether his God was the extracosmic God of orthodox
Christianity, or the immanent God of Spinoza, does not espe-
cially interest me: his real spiritual attitude he has fully shown.

If Haeckel was right and Agassiz wrong, perish the thought:
rather let me live in a fool’s paradise along with such a soul as
that of Louis Agassiz.

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 53

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER. II

By Dr. JAMES FREDERICK ROGERS
NEW HAVEN, CONN.

OTING his intense self-concern, Comte advised Spencer to
marry, believing that sympathetic companionship would
have a curative effect. Professor Huxley also advised the same
treatment, humorously referring to it as “gyneopathy.” Ap-
pearances gave the impression that he was in fair health.
“Appetite and digestion were both good; and my bodily
strength seemingly not less than it had been, as tested by walk-
ing, was equal to that of most men who lead town lives. This
continued to be my state for many years.”

“During my consultation with him, Dr. Ransom advised
me never in future to live alone. He thought, and no doubt
rightly thought, that my solitary days in lodgings had been
largely instrumental in bringing on the physiological disaster
which had already cost me so much of life and of work, and
was thereafter to cost me far more. Probably he inferred that
in the absence of distractions my brain had been active during
times which were nominally times of rest; and he doubtless
recognized the truth that besides this positive mischief, there
had been the negative mischief which lack of society and its
enlivenments entails.”

Congenially settled, he found himself able to write “at
the rate of about a closely written page of post-paper per day,
which takes me from two to three hours, and though it usually
congests my head more or less before I have got half through,
I do not find that I permanently suffer.”

“How did I pass my leisure hours? In those days I was
not a member of a club; and now that I have been for many
years habituated to one, I am at a loss to understand what I
did in the latter part of the day. Then, as always after my
nervous breakdown, reading, even of the lightest kind, told
upon my brain just as much as working. So far as I can re-
member, a walk into town, half-an-hour at a public news-room,
and a walk back served to fill part of the afternoon; and the
rest was spent in such miscellaneous ways of killing time as
might offer themselves.”

54 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

“The improvement in health achieved during the season in
London, was increased in Scotland by the fresh air, exercise,
fishing, and—I was going to say—quiet. But I am arrested by
the remembrance that to nervous subjects country places often
prove the reverse of quiet. The early chirping of sparrows,
and, still worse, the clucking and crowing of fowls, are dread-
ful inflictions to them. I have often entertained sanguinary
feelings towards a vociferous cock, which, after I had passed
the first part of the night in tossing from side to side, began
crowing just as I was beginning to get a little sleep, and kept
me awake during the ensuing hours. At Beoch a droll incident
was associated with this experience. My bedroom faced the
farm-yard, and to get sufficient air in a small room I had to
keep the window partially open. The result was that the early
crowing of the cock was a great torment tome. To remedy the
evil, the good people shut up the cock in a barn on the opposite
side of the yard. But as the bottom of the barn door was
worn away and the pavement hollow, the space sufficed both
for the light of the dawn to advertise the cock that it was time
to begin crowing, and to allow the sound to be heard almost
as clearly as before. The device they then hit upon, which
proved quite effectual, was to place him under an inverted
bucket, and there keep him until I was getting up. It was
amusing to observe how, when released, he endeavored to
make up for lost time by crowing with immense energy and
rapidity.”

Writing of his forty-third year, he says, “‘ This season seems
to have had no relapse from my ordinary abnormal state of
health. Sleeping, now as ever a chief difficulty, had been im-
proved by a course recommended; as witness the following
paragraphs.

“T have recently been profiting considerably by the advice
of a French physician—a Dr. de Mussy to whom Huxley sent
me. He has prescribed frequent warm baths—three or more
times in the week, with the view of improving my sleeping. I
have decidedly slept the better for them.

“Here let me add, for the instruction of the sleepless, that
some years later Mr. de Mussy told me he had modified his
opinion respecting the efficacy of warm baths as soporifics; for
he had met with cases in which, though taken at a tempera-
ture below blood heat (as they should always be), they pro-
duced wakefulness instead of sleepiness. That under some
conditions they do this, I can myself testify; for, many years
after, owing I suppose to some change in my constitutional

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 55

state, this reverse effect was produced upon me, so that I dare
not take a warm bath late in the day. Unexpected as this
experience was, it was congruous with a statement once made
to me by the late Dr. Bence Jones respecting other medicinal
agents. Speaking of drugs, he said that there is scarcely one
which may not under different conditions produce opposite
effects. Certainly we have familiar proof that this is the case
with alcohol, tea, coffee, tobacco and opium.

“This mention of opium reminds me that I had for some
time previously made occasional use of it—commonly under the
form of morphia. With me sleep brought sleep and wakeful-
ness was habitually followed by more wakefulness; so that
after a series of specially bad nights it had been my practice
to break the morbid habit, and re-establish the periodicity of
sleep by artificial means. Sometimes it was weeks, sometimes
months, before I again had recourse to one or other prepara-
tion of opium. That the average result was beneficial is an
opinion which I here express, because there is, I think, an
undue fear of opium; both in the minds of medical men and
in those of men at large. Every medicinal agent is liable to
abuse; and when it has been greatly abused there arises a reac-
tion, which goes almost to the extent of forbidding its use. In
respect of opium a reaction is needed.”

Four years later he attempted to increase his hours of work.
“Tt resulted that beyond my morning’s work, continued, when
I was well, from 10 till 1, during which interval Mr. Duncan
acted as amanuensis, some work of so light a kind that it hardly
seemed worthy the name, now filled an hour or two at the end
of the day. Though reading had the same effect on me as dic-
tating, and though half an hour over a book in the evening
made my ordinarily bad night decidedly worse, yet I hoped
that I might listen when read to without suffering from it. It
was a foolish hope. Many experiences might have shown me
that the effect would be mischievous.

“My nervous affection had been from the beginning of such
a nature that disturbance of the cerebral circulation was caused
by whatever necessitated persistent mental action, no matter
of what kind. Often when at a loss how to pass the time, 1
have been asked—‘ Why do you not read a novel?’ But the
effect of reading a novel is just the same as that of reading a
grave book. When at my worst, half a column of a newspaper
as surely brings on head-symptoms as do two or three pages of
metaphysica. Whatever involves continued attention produces
the effect. Dr. Ransom, who had suffered from a similar affec-

56 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tion, told me that he brought on a relapse by too persistently
watching, through the microscope, the early changes in the
fertilised ova of fishes; and he further told me that disorders
akin to his own and to mine, were common in Nottingham
among the lace menders—a class of women who, all day long,
have the attention strained in looking for, and rectifying, small
flaws which have been left by the lace-making machines.
Hence I might have known that continuous attention to a
reader would have nearly the same result as continuous read-
ing. This presently proved to be the case. My restless nights
were very soon made more restless. Without thinking what
I was doing I nevertheless persevered; and bye and bye found
I had brought about one of my serious relapses.

“T have nothing to remind me of the date, but I imagine
that this disaster occurred early in December (1867).

“Tn a previous chapter I named the fact that I had recourse
to morphia when my nights became much worse than usual;
and doubtless on this occasion I sought thus to bring on again
the periodicity of sleep, which, once broken through for some
time, had to be re-established by artificial means.

** And here it occurs to me to describe, for the benefit of
those who have not experienced them, some of the effects of
morphia on dreams. In me it gives extreme coherence to the
ideas evolved. Unlike the actions and events of an ordinary
dream, which are linked on by accidental suggestions in such
wise that they form a rambling series, the actions and events
of a morphia-dream are almost like those of the waking state,
in their rationality and orderly connexion. For a long time
the thoughts which arise bear a logical relation to some primary
thought, and the actions performed continue to be in pursuance
of some original intention. Occasionally this trait was so
striking that I next morning recorded the dream illustrat-
ing it.”

To restore his “constitutional equilibrium” he spent five
weeks in Italy. An incident of this journey which he relates
furnishes ample evidence that, aside from its mental function-
ing, his bodily machine was capable of great and healthy
activity.

A few days after his sixtieth birthday he writes, “Mv
vigour is pretty well shown by the fact that I find myself run-
ning upstairs two steps at a time, as I commonly do.”

From now on his days were spent, one or two hours in
reading and dictating, and the rest in walking, riding, fishing,
and in killing time otherwise in the best way to avoid mental

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 57

activity. There were ups and downs. At sixty-five, after
walking about half a mile, wielding a salmon-rod for a quarter
of an hour, and walking home again, he was obliged to spend
several days in bed and “there was thus made a further descent
to confirmed ill-health and incapacity.”

After a change of scene and of company, he was, in three
years, able to return to London, “frequented the Atheneum
daily for a month, and even got so far as playing a game of
billiards. Then, as usual, came a catastrophe; too long and
too animated a conversation brought me down with a crack,
and I was unable to reach the Atheneum during the remainder
of the season.”

In the “ Reflections” of his Autobiography, written in his
seventy-third year, he in a masterly way and thoroughly
Spencerian style points out that both the quality and quantity
of mental activity depend on the working of the bodily ma-
chinery. “It becomes clear” he says after this review, ‘that
mind is as deep as the viscera.” He goes on to analyze his
own behavior and to account for its quality and quantity as
compared with that of his parents on physiological grounds.
“One apparent reason” why he had “never shown the unfail-
ing diligence common to them is that the cerebral circulation
has, by bodily traits, been throughout life rendered less vigour-
ous than it should be.” “It is true that my extraordinary feat
in walking when a boy of 13, seems to prove that there was at
that time no deficiency in either heart-power or lung-power;
and, if we pass over the evidence from thoracic development it
might be inferred that the damage done by the enormous over-
tax on a half-finished body, was the primary cause of this
defective function throughout after life. Certainly it seems
likely to have been a part cause. Be this as it may, however,
there is undeniable evidence that, either from deficient propul-
Sive power or from some chronic constriction of the arterioles,
the remoter plexuses of blood vessels everywhere have com-
monly not been duly charged. Hence a somewhat deficient
genesis of energy, or at any rate, a genesis of energy not as
great as that displayed by my father.”

Speaking of his life work, he says: “Men at large have
to pass their days in duties from which they would gladly be
excused. Quite different has been my lot; my chief complaint
having been that state of brain every day forbade me to con-
tinue when I wished to do so. Even taking into account
chronic disturbance of health, I have every reason to be satisfied
with that which fate has awarded me.

or
io 6)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

“Moreover these disturbances of health have not been of a
kind so difficult to bear as those borne by many who have no
compensations for them. They have not entailed on me any
positive suffering; unless, indeed, the weariness and irritation
of perpetual bad nights come under that name. I have not
been subject to much positive pain; less, I think, than most
are. And then, during the greater part of the time since my
break-down in 1855, the constitutional state, which seems to
have become adapted to a small amount of broken sleep, has
not been such as to negative many of the pleasures within reach.
It is true that, reading to any considerable extent being in-
jurious, light literature has been almost wholly cut off, and
restriction of evening excitements has been imperative; but
otherwise, up to the age of 62, the deprivations were not great.
Only during the last ten years, and especially during the last
six years, have I been more and more cut off from most
relaxations.

“And here let me exclude some misapprehensions likely to
be caused by what has been said above. Naturally it will be
inferred that the chronic perturbations of health described, and
especially those which of late years have brought me to what
may be called an invalid life, must be indicated by an invalid
appearance. This is far from being the case. Neither in the
lines of the face nor in its colour, is there any such sign of
constitutional derangement as would be expected. Contrary-
wise, I am usually supposed to be about ten years younger than
Iam. And this anomalous peculiarity conforms to a medical
observation which I have seen made, that nervous subjects are
generally older than they look.”

A living and intimate picture of Spencer is that given by
“Two,’—the ladies who served as his housekeepers for eight
years—from the completion of his autobiography in 1889 to
1897, when the philosopher had reached the age of seventy-
seven.

“At twenty minutes to five he drove rapidly to the door
in his carriage—a shabby little victoria—and, stepping quickly
out, slowly ascended the steps, leaving the innumerable rugs,
cloaks, etc., he had brought with him to follow.

“He shook hands cordially, and then entering the dining
room sank in silence into an arm-chair. The silence lasted
several seconds, after which he informed us that he had been
feeling his pulse! Luckily it had been beating regularly, and
conversation, to use the hackneyed phrase, ‘became general.’

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 59

“But our surprises were not all over. He had, with care-
ful forethought and attention to detail, ordered his supper a
week beforehand. It was to consist of eggs, toast, and cocoa-
tina, a simple repast which hardly needed so much warning and
preparation. But now, at the last minute, he suggested a
grilled whiting, ‘only it must be a whiting, you know; half the
time the fishmongers send a haddock instead.’

“At this prompt and unexpected exhibition of masculine
nature our spirits rose. ‘Come,’ we thought, ‘this is more
homelike. Philosopher or no no philosopher, at least we feel
that we have a man in the house.’”

“He used to return from the club at about nine in the
evening, and sit with us for about an hour, and if the con-
versation proved too trying for him he would produce his ear-
stoppers and shut himself off from the world of sound. These
ear-stoppers were formed of a band almost semicircular in
shape, with a little velvet covered knob at either end, which
was pressed by the spring in the band on the flaps over the
hole of each ear. Very practical and sensible, no doubt, but
irresistibly funny to see, and a ready butt for parody.

“Bach evening at ten o’clock punctually he rose, wished
us ‘ good-night,’ and went to his room. His oddities extended
even to his sleeping arrangements, and as he insisted on his
bed being made in a certain fashion of his own, he retired the
first evening after his arrival at an earlier hour than was his
custom subsequently in order to see that the bed had been
prepared for him after the approved plan.

“This was as follows. A hard bolster was placed under
the mattress, raising thereby a hump on which the small of
his back rested. The clothes had a pleat in them right down
the centre, so that they were never strained, but fell in loose
folds on either side of him, an arrangement which, though we
were assured it was most comfortable and restful, certainly
looked peculiarly untidy.”

One evening ‘‘ He went off into a discourse on the subject
of dress and on the folly of clothing an exposed part, such as
the foot, more lightly than the rest of the body, and held forth
in his most serious and emphatic style for several minutes on
this important topic!

“Tt was all done in the most natural way, as if socks were
a suitable and interesting subject of conversation in any kind
of society.

“On thinking of it now, one is inclined to laugh, but there
was no thought of that then, not even when, on his companion

60 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

saying she suffered from cold feet, he offered with eagerness
to give her some small pairs of his own to wear over her
stockings if she didn’t mind appearances.”

“Hearing by chance that one of us had washed her hair
in a fireless room, he promptly sent an order to her to proceed
to the study to receive a ‘good bullying’ from him for being
so unwise. The lecture was borne meekly, and so his ascend-
ency over us in these matters was established. He next heard
that the delinquent always made a poor breakfast; and using
the advantage he had gained, he sternly remarked that he must
rule her with a rod of iron, and in future should not inquire
‘Good morning. Have you used Pears’ soap?’—and here he
twinkled and gave a little chuckle—but ‘Good morning. Have
you made a good breakfast? For eating too little is simply a
habit which should be broken as soon as possible, for it is an
extremely injurious one.’”

When riding, “he would often pull up his carriage with a
stentorian shout of ‘stop!’ to the coachman, no matter where
he might be, whether in a quiet place or in the middle of the
business traffic in Regent Street. The carriage was at once
brought to a standstill, and silence reigned therein for some
few seconds. This, we soon learnt, was in order that he might
feel his pulse. If it was regular the drive was continued, if
not, and he feared injurious consequences, the order was given
to return home.”

“Tt was one of his most striking characteristics that when
well he was able totally to ignore the dark cloud of illness,
which, always hovering, so constantly descended upon him.

“His energies never flagged when his strength did not desert
him, and when he was drawn into public controversies he still
showed the vigour of a man in his prime.”

“We could always tell when one of his bad bouts com-
menced, for on those occasions he used to adopt a curious gar-
ment he had devised to protect himself from cold with as little
exertion in dressing as possible. It was made of a warm,
woolly material, and compounded in such a way that he had
only to step into it and with one pull was fully clad in boots,
trousers, and coat. We used to call this the ‘woolly bear ’—a
name he adopted for it—and when we heard from the house-
maid he was clothed in it, it was a warning to us that there
was a trying day to be faced. The trouble that caused these
bouts lay wholly beyond the power of himself or any member
of the household to prevent.

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 61

“Public controversies gave him many a sleepless night.
Ill-informed newspaper paragraphs upset him more than
formerly. Any anxiety too, such as delay in the arrival of his
MS., caused remorseless insomnia, and many a weary hour did
he pass in bed unable to sleep when he made his attack on
Lord Salisbury. He was determined to ‘smash’ him for his
excursions into science, and for this he had to suffer, for he
could not get the matter out of his head night or day, and
finally he was completely prostrated, and a bad bout of illness
followed.

“No words can adequately describe the black pall of de-
pression which then appeared to descend upon Avenue Road.
Its dreariness affected every member of the household, and
forced the spirits into the lowest depths. One typical Novem-
ber day, when the gloom of the impenetrable fog outside was
only equaled by the dreary gloom which prevailed within, M.
as usual was sitting in the poor old invalid’s bedroom, simply
that he might feel the comfort of a human presence near him,
for he was too ill for conversation.

“He lay buried in his pillows, and gave no sign of life
except an occasional long drawn sigh—almost a groan—which
accompanied the rising and falling of his hand, and that spoke
far more eloquently than words could have done of the state of
hopelessness into which he had sunk. For-it was one of his
worst days, when his ill-health completely mastered him, and
although only of a temporary nature, it was terribly trying
for him and very distressing for us.

“Hour after hour crawled by. Darker and darker grew
the room as the fog slowly descended like a thick veil before
the window.

“Complete silence reigned within. From without could be
heard occasionally the far-off scream of the London and North
Western Railway whistles, as the trains rushed with a dull roar
into the tunnel near Chalk Farm Station.

“At length a belated but prosperous bluebottle, as if in
protest at the unusual silence in the room, flew noisily across
the prostrate figure in the bed. Its buzzing fussiness was
almost startling, breaking so suddenly upon the deathlike still-
ness, and this led M., who was sitting by the fire, to glance
across at it and cry, “‘ You ought to be dead!”

“*Wh-what! What did you say?’ came in a feebly sur-
prised tone from the pillows, and something very like a weak
laugh followed.

62 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

“*T said that that vociferous bluebottle ought to be dead;
and so it ought at this time of the year,’ she replied.

““T saw no bluebottle,’ he went on, and the tone of his
voice showed signs of increasing amusement as he continued,
But you suddenly looked straight at me and emphatically cried,
‘You ought to be dead!’

“Having made that quite long speech, he broke into low,
irresistible laughter! And what a welcome, welcome sound
it was, for there could not have been a better sign that he was
beginning to mend. It was so, and before the day was over
M. ventured, with success—for she was not checked—to tell
him of an amusing little incident which she had shortly before
experienced.

““She had ever since wanted to tell him, but had not dared
embark upon so long a story until that weak laugh gave her,
as it were, permission.”

It was not until his eighty-second year that it became evi-
dent that Spencer was going to pieces both physically and
mentally.

In this year Spencer wrote an appendix to his autobiogra-
phy entitled ‘‘ Physical Traits and Some Sequences” in which
he reviews in detail his physical history.

“Until the time of my nervous breakdown, I had good
health. My constitution appears to have been not strong in
the sense of possessing overflowing vigour, but strong in the
sense of having a good balance. All through life, in late days
as in early days, my state of body and mind has been equable.
There have never been any bursts of high spirits and times
of depression; but there has ever been a flow of energy moder-
ate in amount, but sufficient for the purposes of life.

“One consequence has been that I have preserved down to
late life a love of amusements of all kinds. I never fell into
that state of indifference which characterizes many. Concerts
and theatres continued to be attractions until my broken health
forbade attending them; a good drama being to the last, as at
first, one of the greatest pleasures which life yields. Certain
sports too, as salmon and sea-trout fishing, retained their at-
traction until my strength failed. To friends who have lost
liking for other pursuits than work, I have often insisted that
it is a mistake, even from a business point of view, to give up
amusements; since, when disturbance of health has made a
holiday imperative, there remains no means of passing the time
with satisfaction. ‘Be a boy as long as you can,’ was the

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 63

maxim which I reiterated. Games, too, I played as long as
physical powers allowed. Above all I continued to enjoy the
‘country; my sojourn in which every summer was looked for-
ward to as the great gratification of the year. How fully I
entered into its concomitant pleasures may be judged from the
fact that I went picnicking when over eighty.

“Being moderate in amount, my flow of energy was never
such as prompted needless activities. There are men whose
fulness of life necessitates some kind of action—purposeless
action, if no other. This was never so with me. Contrari-
wise, I tended always to be an idler. Action resulted only
under the prompting of a much-desired end, and even then it
was with some reluctance that I worked at things needful for
achieving the end....

“One of the traits of a constitution which, though not
vigorous, was organically good, appears to have been a well-
finished development of the structures which arise out of
the dermal system. I was thirty-two before I had any sign
of decay of teeth. I never had a tooth taken out or stopped.
Of the eyes, which are also dermal structures, the like may be
said. They have all through life remained strong. Down even
to my present age (eighty-two) I read without spectacles;
sometimes putting on a pair, but finding the inconvenience such
that, on the whole, I prefer to do without them. I may add
that I have, until quite recently, rejoiced in a strong light.
That dislike to a glare which many people betray, even in their
early years, I have rarely if ever felt. The like holds with the
ears. Those around me say that my hearing is perfect. Is
there any significance in this perfection and long endurance
of teeth, eyes, and ears, all of them developed from the dermal
layer? The implication seems to be that in the process of de-
velopment there was no failure of nutrition at the periphery.

“During these later years, when capable of any work, my
dictation (according to Mr. Troughton) has amounted some-
times to two periods of ten minutes each during the morning,
and sometimes to three. Reading for more than a few min-
utes at a time is mischievous, and listening to reading has to
be restricted to fragments. It has been so even with music.
Even so simple a thing as looking at illuminations in monthly
magazines is too much for me unless taken in portions. Some-
times things have considerably improved, as at Septon, in 1900,
when I could walk about the garden a little; while at other
times, as in the spring of 1901 and again during the present
autumn (1902) I have been mainly confined to bed, even the

64 : THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY
2

extra effort entailed by reclining on a sofa being too much. To
all appearances this state of things will become more pro-
nounced, and infirmities of other kinds, which have during
these last years added to my troubles, will make such part of
my life as remains still more to be dreaded.”

But “feeble and emaciated as his frame now was, he had
lost little of that strength of will which had always been a
marked trait with him, and both nurses and doctors found him
by no means an easy patient to deal with. No less emphatic
was the assertion of scepticism in regard to the treatment
ordered by the doctor . . . he wanted to know the reason for
this, that, and the other mode of treatment recommended.”

Save for the attacks of aphasia in 1902 and in the next
year, there were no marked symptoms. He continued his cor-
respondence and his interest in public affairs into his eighty-
third and last year.

Spencer at no time had the appearance of a confirmed in-
valid. He was proud of his small hands and in his seventy-
eighth year had a plaster cast made of them. He was also
somewhat vain of his teeth, but, as Hugh Elliot remarks, it
would have been better for him had they been filled. It was
foreign to his method of thought to have one extracted, since
it would have involved “‘a subtraction from his own per-
sonality.”

The trend of events in Spencer’s physical history run inter-
estingly parallel to those of his father, even to the extravagant
outlay of energy in the long walks of their childhood. His long
invalidism was very evidently due to a hereditary weakness
in the mental machinery—perhaps an inbred tendency not im-
proved by the fact that the family had for at least two past gen-
erations been devoted exclusively to mental pursuits, including
the nerveracking business of teaching. Neither his father nor
his grandfather did more “day by day, than wield the pen or
the pencil, and neither of them was given to sports of any kind.”

If one were in search of illustration of the connection be-
tween mental activity and physiological processes, and their
linking in emotional] disturbances, he can find convincing proof
in Spencer’s daily history. The unconscious working of the
mental processes is also finely exemplified, for his work flowed
from his pen without need for alteration, until something went
wrong with the machinery, the disturbances impressed them-
selves on consciousness, the “secretion” of thought became
painful, and vegetation was the enforced order for the re-
mainder of the twenty-four hours.

THE PHYSICAL SPENCER 65

If one must have a name for his disease, undoubtedly
“neurasthenia” would, in our present state of knowledge, be
most fitting, and more fitting than in most cases in which it is
applied. There was some nerve weakness, but how or why is
beyond our present gross knowledge of pathology. Whatever
the lesion, we can be thankful that it did not interfere more
with the development of the philosopher’s great work, and that
it was a stimulus to the production of his essay on “ Physical
Education.”

VOL. X.—9)

66 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

HOW TO SOLVE THE INDUSTRIAL PROBLEM

By Professor T. D. A. COCKERELL

THE UNIVERSITY OF COLORADO

7WNHE industrial problem has been solved by the ants, but it
ifs can not be solved by man. Ants are abundantly pre-
served in Baltic amber, belonging to a period about two million
years ago, and it appears that they did then pretty much what
they do to-day. Their industrial system is fixed for very long
periods of time, without any necessity for progress. It is
highly successful; the ants literally own the earth. Ant be-
havior is dominated by instinct, and ants not only can not go
on strike, they can not wish to do so.

During the greater part of man’s history, he also was un-
progressive. For many centuries he lived in caves, hunting
wild animals for food, and clothing himself in their skins. He
knew the mammoth, and left us drawings showing its hairy
majesty. He had no industrial problem, because he was little
socialized, and knew nothing of machinery.

In course of time pictorial writing evolved into written lan-
guage, with an alphabet. Discoveries and inventions were thus
recorded, and the knowledge of them was preserved for pos-
terity. Each generation added its wisdom to that of all pre-
vious ones, and progress became normal. No man stood exactly
in his father’s shoes, he was a little more advanced along the
road of human development.

This principle of progress was not properly recognized or
accepted for a long while. The rate of change was very un-
even, and in some cases quite imperceptible. In religion and
philosophy it was customary to refer always to the learning of
the ancients, and thought was only subconsciously modified.
That it really was affected by experience, in spite of all efforts
to keep it static, is shown by the various reforms. The wine
was new, and at length the old bottles burst. Even then, there
was often a pretense of going back to past ideas, instead of a
frank recognition of forward development.

It is a singular thing that systems of ideas ran ahead of
their application to practical problems. The thoughts of cave
men were embodied in clever drawings, not in inventions. It

THE INDUSTRIAL PROBLEM 67

is true that the early applications of scientific principles made
it possible to build the pyramids, but the early philosophies far
transcend any mere utilitarianism. There was a surplus of
mental power, which delighted in exercising itself. Because
this appeared to be the highest expression of human personality,
it came to be held that mere practical purposes were somehow
lower and inferior.

Discoveries and inventions emerged, often by a kind of acci-
dent. It sometimes seemed that necessity was not so much the
mother of invention, as the reverse. All this paralleled in a
way the evolution of life in general, which proceeds through
the selection of variations which were not purposeful in their
origin.

The industrial problem really began when manufacture
reached a stage in which two or more had to cooperate to pro-
duce. The smith was the type of the original manufacturer,
literally the one who made things by hand. His skill was indi-
vidual, yet even he had to be provided with metal. His magic
blade, endowed it seemed with supernatural power, owed its
qualities to the invention of steel. It was discovered that coal
greatly facilitated the making of metal tools, and this new fuel
came into general use in spite of opposition. In those days a
prophet, endowed with a knowledge of the future, might have
sounded a warning. He might have pointed out that a day
would come when through the use of coal mighty machines
would be constructed. These would require many men for
their manufacture, many others to use them. The mining of
coal would become a great industry, requiring hundreds of
thousands of men. In these ways great deeds would become
possible, but the individual would be submerged in the organi-
zation. Ina true sense, man would be conquered by machinery,
as the Erewhonians in Butler’s fanciful story maintained.
Could all this have been clearly foreseen, it is conceivable that
the people might have acted as the Erewhonians, and destroyed
all machines, making it a criminal offense to have one in pos-
session. At the very least, they would have wished to do as
William Morris said they must, make a bargain with the ma-
chine. It must be frankly recognized that the organization of
industry, with all its benefits, is not without inherent disadvan-
tages,—disadvantages which cannot be entirely removed. Per-
sonal liberty and initiative are restricted; since many are in-
volved, all must play according to the rules of the game. The
great question is, how far is it worth while to go in this direc-

68 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tion? Ifa nation of people acting cooperatively as a unit could
secure abundant wealth for all, would it be worth while?

We object to militarism, not only because it leads to war,
but also because it enslaves the people. It reduces the indi-
vidual as such, to the lowest possible terms, excepting only those
in command. Our American boys, while the war was on, took
things as they came, with a good heart. But now the war is
over, we begin to discover what they thought about a number
of things. Most of them seem to definitely object to the mili-
taristic system, as a system. Certain officers may have been
stupid or harsh, but that is not the real trouble. The trouble
is, that men are deprived of the amount of liberty and the pur-
suit of happiness to which they feel entitled.

It is easy for the average American to understand this, be-
cause with us militarism is after all an exotic affair. It has
never become natural for us, as it has for the Germans. But it
takes very little intelligence to reason from this example to the
conditions in the industrial world. Labor unions complain that
if they are denied by injunction the right to strike they are
virtually enslaved. In spite of the industrial organization, we
have kept up a pretense of perfect liberty to work or not, as one
likes. Theoretically, and according to common law, a man may
seek employment where and when he pleases, or may refuse it.
This alleged fact is constantly cited by those who wish to main-
tain that our ancient liberties have not been impaired. Prac-
tically, however, the working man is in a condition of bondage,
sometimes called wage-slavery. He is part of an organization,
part of a machine. It is impossible for him to be a really free
agent, and his employer is hardly in a better case. This is not
hypothetical, it is actually a fact. It necessarily results from
the increasing complexity of organization involved in the ad-
vance of civilization. Industrial progress moves in this direc-
tion, and no thinking person is hardy enough to believe that
the current can be reversed. The recent coal strike exposed
the actual situation very completely. The affairs of this nation
are now so thoroughly integrated that the cessation from work
of a very small percentage of men may prove absolutely calami-
tous, just as if some essential part had been lost out of a ma-
chine. The government is practically driven to the position of
denying the right to strike in this manner, while all the time
making excuses and clinging to the verbal doctrine of liberty.
The workers are not slow to perceive the incongruity.

Historians will probably record, in criticism of the present
age, that whereas we had been brought by the logic of events tc

THE INDUSTRIAL PROBLEM 69

a certain position, we failed to get our bearings. Failing thus,
we were slow to move in the right direction, and our blindness
and inertia made death or misery for millions. This seems a
harsh eriticism, but are we sincerely trying to think out our
problems, and act intelligently? Are we even honestly facing
the facts? Do we realize that times are changing, and must
change, in the nature of things? Are we estimating prosperity
in terms of human welfare, or in terms of inanimate dividends?
Do we really know or care much about the results of our ac-
tions? These are not very original criticisms, but they are
pertinent. Perhaps the first great fact we have to face is
this—that the organization of human affairs must and should
extend not only within the nation, but between the nations.
This organization, guided by science and democratically con-
trolled, will enormously increase our power of production and
transportation. It will create wealth for all, and do away with
many of the worst terrors of disease. It may even improve
the human stock, and create a posterity which will look back in
amazement to the feeble folk of to-day. Every day opens up
some new avenue of advance, reveals some new ray of hope.
We are already so accustomed to many facilities our fathers
never dreamed of, that we can hardly imagine ourselves with-
out them. We rejoice in these gains, but all the time we are
being drawn into a great world game, to be played by world
rules, and not as we choose. The League of Nations is simply
an attempt to frankly recognize the inevitable. The old liberty
of the individualist, in respect to these matters, is departing.

Are we therefore bound by the bonds of a Marxian fatal-
ism—destined to be puppets of a completely socialistic state?
The profiteer, the tyrannical capitalist, these are surely mere
diseases of the system: but the system itself, when completely
democratized, must dominate the individual. We will cure the
diseases, but can we alter the patient’s constitution?

It seems to me that the dilemma, if fairly faced, might lose
most of its terrors. Grant increasing interdependence, and
deny the right to strike; what then? First of all, I should say
that with modern science, modern machinery, there is no valid
reason for not producing all the basic necessities for human
welfare. There is no valid reason for not making the hours of
labor reasonably short and the conditions healthful. The state,
which in the modern sense requires the services of all, is under
obligation to attend to these matters. It is the duty of the state
to establish a standard of living, and see that all industries
reasonably conform to it, in respect to all the workers. The

70 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

time has long passed when the individual could do this for him-
self; it can only be done through community action.

Scientific research into social conditions should become a
leading public function, and every industry should be watched,
as a captain watches his ship at sea. Real justice should only
be limited by ability and the bounty of nature. All this might
come about under and through organization; it represents the
real advantages of that process. Under such conditions, strikes
would appear as meaningless as a refusal to come to meals, and
the workers’ welfare would be better cared for by experts than
it could be through the operations of his will.

Bellamy pictured some such millennium in his “ Looking
Backward.” Morris rebelled, and socialist though he was,
would have none of it. He accordingly wrote the charming
“News from Nowhere” as an antidote. Most Americans, read-
ing both books, would probably confess a leaning toward the
opinions of Morris. We don’t want to be bound, even by golden
chains, and we are well convinced that the process would en-
danger what we regard as the highest human attributes. Is
there no better way out? It may well come through science
and organization itself. The working day, if by that we mean
the period of obligatory service, may be reduced to six hours or
less. Inventions and improvements are rapidly increasing pro-
duction per labor hour. Thus through bondage we may win
our way to all the liberty we need. Half our active hours may
be ours alone, to do as we please within generous limits. In
this wide field of opportunity we may develop personality, and
enjoy the sense of initiative. From the standpoint of national
progress, these may well be the most fruitful hours of our lives,
wherein we shall leap boundaries and set new marks. But
the pitiful thing is, that we are as yet little fitted for these
golden opportunities. Who can say that the free time of most
people is well spent? Suppose the nation were put to-morrow
on a universal six hour basis, would the result be good? It
would in any event be much better than the twelve hours of the
steel industry, but how many of us could profitably employ so
much freedom from restraint? Idleness is destructive of char-
acter, and meaningless occupation is little better. There is
actual danger that we may succumb to the effects of habitual
constraint, so that we can not use a large margin of liberty.

If the present aims of the working classes are substantially
gained, as they surely will be, it will be no small task to realize
the full benefits. Educational processes must develop the
power to play as well as work, if by play we mean free and

THE INDUSTRIAL PROBLEM 71

self-directed occupation. Power of initiative must be deliber-
ately cultivated, but also judgment as to when it may be prop-
erly employed. If we are successful, we may see within the
next hundred years an intellectual and spiritual development
far transcending anything yet imagined. Yet this may only
be if we have a program, and deliberately set ourselves to real-
ize it.

At that time, the industrial question will have been solved,
in so far as we shall have attained an adequate modus vivendi.
But it will never be solved as it is for the ant, because each gen-
eration will face new problems. Human society under the con-
ditions of civilization is dynamic, and its gods may never
slumber.

In the new day to come, it may seem probable that the bound
time will appear so much less interesting than the free time,
that its duties will be shirked. I do not think it will be so, as
there will not only be the incentive of public service and uni-
versal benefit, but also the joy of skill. The things we do many
times are those in which we develop skill, and consequently
the worker in his bound hours will work efficiently, with rela-
tive ease and self-respect. In his free hours he will experiment
and blunder, and continually realize his imperfections and lim-
itations. The notable gains of the free hours will far transcend
these of the bound, but they will be the survivors among many
unsuccessful attempts.

72 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ENGLISH HARBOR'

By Professor C. C. NUTTING

STATE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA

XY OMETIMES one bores for water and finds oil. Thus a
“ party of naturalists went to the Leeward Islands to study
the fauna of coral reefs and happened upon a spot chuck full of
romance and overflowing with historic and legendary asso-
ciations.

Few Americans know that there is an island within 250
miles of American territory where a foreign power has spent
something like $125,000,000, in erecting dockyard facilities and
fortifications for a great naval base and quarters for a consid-
erable army. Let no one be disturbed, however, when informed
that it is all true; for the foreign power is Great Britain, bound
to us now by a comradeship that is destined, please God, to en-
dure; and the great naval base is so far forgotten that there are
imposing ruins of buildings whose very names and functions
are unknown even to local officials.

Fig. 1. ViIrw IN St. JOHN’S HARBOR, ANTIGUA.

1 Photographs by Maurice Ricker.

~!
wn

ENGLISH HARBOR

Fic. 2. NATIVE FISHING BOAT, ANTIGUA.

There are few more exciting chapters in the history of the
New World than those dealing with the struggle, mainly be-
tween Great Britain and France, for the group of islands
stretching between Porto Rico on the northwest and Barbados
on the southeast; a struggle that at times engaged fleets of con-
siderable size and involved the question of naval supremacy in
the Western Hemisphere.

So prolonged and bitter was this contest that Great Britain
found it necessary to locate a base of operations in the Lesser
Antilles. Good natural harbors are few and far between in
these waters. The United States has one now at Charlotte Am-
alia on the Island of St. Thomas, the French have one at Guade-
loupe, the British have one at St. Lucia; and that is about all
that are at present available for modern shipping.

But, for the purposes of the naval vessels of a century anda
half ago, there was a harbor unsurpassed in natural and strate-
gic advantages. John Bull, with his characteristic long-headed-
ness, was quick to see the value of such a base and Captain
Francis Cooper of H. M. S. Lynn and Captain Del Garno of H.
M. S. South Sea Castle “ share the credit for calling attention to
the great advantages which would accrue from providing a suit-
able place in the West Indies for careening and refitting ves-

74 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sels, and from thus obviating the need of sending ships all the
way to the North American Colonies for the purpose.’’!

The writer’s acquaintance with this locality was purely acci-
dental. All he had known of Antigua previous to the summer
of 1917 was that it is a speck of an island in the Lesser Antilles.
His first impression was conveyed by an officer of the Quebec
Line to the effect that Antigua is ‘“‘hotter’n Hell!,’”’ which is
probably an exaggeration.

Fic. 3. THE GLARING WHITE STREETS OF ST. JOHN’S.

As director of a scientific expedition from the State Univer-
sity of Iowa, the author paid a hurried visit at the suggestion of
Sir Francis Watts, Imperial Commissioner of Agriculture for
the British West Indies, little thinking that he was destined to
spend considerable time at a place of which Aspinall says:

“Tn the entire chain of West Indian Islands there is no spot
at once so romantic and so full of historic interest as English
Harbour, which lies at the southeast corner of Antigua, the seat
of government of the Leeward Islands.”

The only port available for large vessels is in the harbor of
St. Johns, a commodious one in point of size; but so shallow
that the anchorage is about three miles from town and pas-

1 Algernon E. Aspinall, ‘‘ West Indian Tales of Old.” The writer is
indebted to this work for most of the dates mentioned, although many of
the historical facts and legends were learned from various residents on
the island and from publications loaned by His Excellency, Governor T. A.
V. Best, at that time acting governor of the Leeward Islands.

~I
ol

ENGLISH HARBOR

shasta adi
ee

Fie. 5. NATIVE HUT, ANTIGUA.

Fic. 4. RIDING DONKEYS WHICH RESEMBLE SLIGHTLY MAGNIFIED JACK-RABBITS.

76 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 6. WE GLIDE THROUGH A LARGER VILLAGE.

sengers are transferred to a wheezy steam launch that may, or
may not, reach the landing without breaking down and drifting
about in one of the furious tropical downpours of that region.

The glaring white streets and houses of St. Johns impress
one most painfully on landing; but the auto ride through the
valleys and over the hills, on excellent roads and with novelty
everywhere, atones for the initial discomfort. Our course trav-
erses the central valley that in past times cut the island in two
with a stretch of salt water where we now ride. The people,
practically all black, are trudging along the road or riding
donkeys which resemble slightly magnified jack rabbits.

Later we enter a hilly, indeed almost mountainous, region
where we glimpse delightful vistas of little side valleys with
hamlets of grass-thatched huts snuggled under cocoanut palms
with a goat or two and innumerable pickaninnies naked and
unashamed. Now we glide through a larger village, such as
Liberta, with the little white Wesleyan Church crowning a hill
top, and then we pass a great thicket of thornless cacti, the kind
used by Burbank in producing his famous strain which com-
- bines the succulent leaves of the prickly pear with the thorn-
lessness of the Antiguan form.

Here we pass a village pump with its group of women, re-
minding one of Bible scenes, except that here kerosene cans are
poised on the heads instead of the graceful water jars of the
East; but the women here are just as graceful in their pose as
their oriental sisters.

ENGLISH HARBOR |

Mounting an unusually high hill we get from its summit a
glimpse of the deep blue of Falmouth Harbor, encircled by
almost mountainous peaks, reminding one of Swiss Lakes.
Here, too, we see over the neck of the “‘ Middle Ground” the
yellow buildings of the dockyard at English Harbor, our des-
tination. With honking horn we rush through the remnant of
the village of English Harbor, over a mud-flat skirting a man-
grove swamp and come to a stop before a solid wooden gate
between massive stone pillars. Honking some more for the an-
cient warder, who hobbles out, salutes and swings the gate on
its creaking hinges, we enter the most historic spot in the West
Indies.

A gorgeous flamboyant tree shades the caretaker’s house on
the right as we glide between the “ Capstan House” and naval
barracks and bring up in front of the great stairway in front of
the “‘ officers’ quarters,” our home for a month of strange and
uncommonly interesting experiences.

This building is the most modern of all and replaces a much
older one destroyed by the great hurricane of August, 1848.
The lower story is occupied by a series of huge tanks contain-
ing rain-water, the only water for drinking and laundry pur-
poses available at the dockyard. Above are the living rooms,
which furnished space galore for our entire party of nineteen,
besides a dining room and kitchen, and spacious verandas in
front and rear, stone-flagged and deliciously cool from the con-
stant trade-wind from off the open sea.

On moonlight nights this big veranda was next door to
Heaven, with hammock chairs, congenial friends, the glorious

78 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Eig. 8. A VILLAGE PUMP:

Fic. 9. THE DocKYARD, ENGLISH HARBOR, IN THE DISTANCE,

ENGLISH HARBOR io

shield of the tropic moon creeping over Fort Barclay and re-
flected in the still waters of the harbor, music from Stoner’s
mandolin, an evening pipe and the contentment that comes from
a hard day’s work in a naturalist’s paradise. Such a combina-
tion makes one realize the worth-whileness of being alive!

And yet this spot was regarded as simply a Hell-hole by the
officers of His Majesty’s Navy under the conditions existing in
1756, when Captain Edward Thompson wrote:

Fic. 10. A MANGROVE SWAMP.

“With the strictest truth I may call this one of the most in-
fernal places on the face of the Globe,” and the great Nelson
says: “English Harbour I hate the sight of!” and calls it a
“vile hole.” The ravages of yellow fever in those days were
frightful; the Stegomyia, a mosquito that now is known to be
the carrier of this dreadful pest, being bred in countless swarms
in the rain-water tanks and neighboring mangrove swamps.
Whole crews of naval vessels were stricken and practically
wiped out.

The naval barracks, a brick structure 100 feet square, is still
standing and served as our laboratory, though decrepit and
leaky. The old “capstan house” contains a cherished relic of
the present King George V., which was shown us very rever-
ently by the caretaker as a special favor on the fourth of July.

80 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 11. Tear GATE TO THE DOCKYARD.

Sin

TU wn a iu wi

t

Fic. 12. THR FRONT OF THE OFFICER'S QUARTERS, OCCUPIED BY THE
3ARBADOS-ANTIGUA E)XPEDITION.

ENGLISH HARBOR 81

It is an inscription supposed to have been made by His Majesty,
then on H. M. S. Canada on a brick wall and enclosed in a sort
of cupboard. It reads: “A Merry Xmas and a Happy New
Year 2 you all.”” We stood with uncovered head and were duly
impressed.

There are a number of other buildings in various states of
dilapidation. One consists merely of rows of great stone and
brick pillars capped with mortar domes; but no one now knows
for what purpose it was intended.

Fic. 13. NAVAL BARRACKS, USED AS A LABORATORY BY THE EXPEDITION.

Standing in the quiet and peaceful scene of the present, it is
hard to imagine the place as it was—the bustle and clamor of
the dockyard when, especialy during the hurricane season, con-
siderable portions of the Royal Navy put in here to refit.

The clang of hammer and clank of chain, the songs of sailors
careening vessels and the picturesque oaths of brawling men re-
echoed in the turmoil of strenuous activity. It was a time of
hard drinking and strenuous profanity. The officers’ quarters
saw many a wild revel and the requisitions of that day reveal
large orders of wines and liquors, and many a son of Briton’s
nobility gave himself up to unrestrained license. Theatricals
and cock-fights, interspersed with drinking bouts, were popular
forms of amusement when Prince William Henry visited the
place in 1786 and seems to have been a general favorite both
with Navy men and the aristocracy among the Colonials of the
day.

vor. x.—6.

$2 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A large anchor, attached to a massive block of cement, and
probably used in careening vessels, marks the place of a tragedy
that stirred up quite a commotion at the time. It is known as
the Camelford anchor. Lord Camelford of H. M. 8. Sloop-of
War Favorite seems to have been one of the most reckless and
fiery tempered of the young officers of that period. A question
of seniority arose between him and Lieutenant Patterson and
resulted in bitter enmity. A direct issue presented itself when
the latter refused to obey a command of Camelford’s, who
promptly seized a pistol and shot him dead on the spot where
the anchor now rests!

Fig. 14. THE KING’S INSCRIPTION.

From the accounts which come down to us this seems to have
been a needless murder, and nearly resulted in a mutiny; but
Camelford was acquitted by the court martial, only to die later
in a duel in which he confessed himself to have been the ag-
gressor.

A sun-dial, set on a column of masonry and enclosed in an
iron railing is still remarkably accurate as a timepiece and
served us well during our stay.

Looking west across the water from the officers’ quarters a
hilly promontory is crowned by Fort Barclay which mounted a
formidable battery with numerous embrasures for guns, and a
solid stone powder house with a roof of heavy masonry. This
we decided to use for a refuge in case of a hurricane. Steps cut
in the cliff led down to a little landing on the lee side of the
promontory, while on the other side the breakers pounded in-
cessantly.

ENGLISH HARBOR 85

Fic. 15. NO ONE KNOWS THE PURPOSE OF THIS STRUCTURD.

Fic. 16. THE “ CAMELFORD ANCHOR’? MARKS THE SCENE OF A TRAGEDY.

St THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fig. 17. THE SUN-DIAL IS STILL A REMARKABLY ACCURATE TIME-PIECE.

On another hill to the south of the dockyard the white walls
of Clarence House peeped from its shelter among the trees.
Originally intended as a residence for the Duke of Clarence,
afterwards King William IV., and then as the Admiral’s house,
it is now occupied as a country house by the Governor of the
Leeward Islands, His Excellency, Acting Governor Best, who
was our most gracious host on several occasions. At certain
times and under favorable conditions the ghost of Lord Nelson
is said to appear at Clarence House; but we looked for him in
vain, particularly on moonlight nights.

The great Admiral, by the way, detested English Harbor
and called it unkind names. This may be due to the fact that
he was violently in love at the time of his sojourn there with a
charming young widow who lived on the Island of Nevis and
afterwards became his wife. Like most sailor-men, Nelson was
most ardent in his affections and doubtless chafed and was un-
usually irritable on account of the enforced separation from the
object of his affection. All of which leads us to doubt any in-
clination to visit English Harbor even in ghostly guise.

ENGLISH HARBOR 85

A military road of easy gradient leads upward from Clar-
ence House to Shirley Heights, often called “the Ridge.’ On
either side of the road is an impenetrable jungle with many
bristling cacti and other thorny plants, among which is the
“wait-a-bit,” exceedingly well named as its vicious recurved
thorns grasp one’s clothing with a tenacity which demands
pause and elicits fervent profanity from the ungodly as one
waits a bit to free himself from the entanglement which grows
worse at every movement.

Ruins are everywhere. Here an old gun emplacement and
there an ancient dismounted cannon. Here a vault-like powder
magazine and there a massive fragment of wall. The remains
of a great hospital are now occupied by a few donkeys and
goats, and human squatters who come to beg in a mechanical
and unenthusiastic manner of the very occasional stranger.

Among the most impressive of these ruins is the old officers’
quarters with a long colonnade in front, the imposing arches of
which testify to the original massiveness of the building. At
one time many thousand British troops were quartered on “the
ridge.” Crowning one of the summits is a great catch basin
with large cisterns under them which still hold enough water,
apparently, for several regiments.

We strolled over most of this territory with Governor Best,
who gave us much information regarding the ruins which sur-
rounded us.

At the end of the ridge, facing the windward coast, is a
lonely cemetery in which stands a monument to His Majesty’s

Fic. 18. THE POWDER MAGAZINE, Fort BARCLAY.

(92)
oO

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 19. RUINS OF THE OFFICER’S QUARTERS ON “ THE RIDGE.”

men of the Leeward Islands who sleep their long sleep undis-
turbed by human presence or activity, with the ever restless
surges of that stormy coast for requiem. Most of these men
had been victims of yellow fever which had decimated their
ranks in the decade between 1850 and 1860. Some wanton has
plastered over the inscriptions on three sides of this monument
with hard cement, thus obliterating most of the record.

Many individual graves are there, with stones toppling over
and the inscriptions fast becoming obliterated. The 4th Royal
Artillery lost many of its members here, and that organization
has recently put the place in as good repair as possible, clearing
the ground from the invasion of the jungle and straightening
many of the grave stones. The thought uppermost in the mind
of the writer in such places is the utter futility of it all! We

ENGLISH HARBOR 87

strut upon the stage of life for such a pitifully short moment of
time, and then our friends attempt to save us from oblivion by
erecting monuments which soon topple over and the graven
record of our short existence is wiped off by the hand of time,
and strangers come and wonder who it was that rests in the
eternal solitude of the place!

Below,the point on which the cemetery rests is a great cliff
of sandstone, carved by the pounding breakers into a series of
gigantic pillars, known as the “ Pillars of Hercules.” This is
one of the most picturesque of all the scenes about English Har-
bor, and we often dodged the breakers while collecting on the
rocky flats below this ocean-sculptured cliff.

Standing near the monument and looking northward we find
the whole panorama of the English Harbor region spread out
as on a map. Far below is the dockyard and still beyond is
Ordnance Bay with its fringe of mangrove swamp; while to the
north of the dockyard rises Monk’s Hill, formerly very exten-
sively fortified, on the top of which perches the signal station
from which the passage of all vessels is reported.

Returning to the dockyard towards sunset, we are in time to
see the multitudes of bats streaming from the attic of Capstan
House on their nightly foray against mosquitoes and other night-
flying things. We believed that our immunity from malaria
was largely due to the activity of these swarms of bats which
reduced the numbers of the malarial mosquito to insignificant
proportions.

Fig, 20. A CATCH-BASIN WITH LARGE CISTERNS UNDERNEATH.

SS THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fig. 21. HIs EXCELLENCY, ACTING GOVERNOR T. A. V. BEST OF ANTIGUA.

After supper we sit on the veranda and dream of the past
glories of the place, and particularly of the Great Admiral and
his colleagues, the Olympian heroes of the Mistress of the Seas.
We Yankees seem something of a misfit here. Nelson and his
associates were, to say the least, not cordial in their attitude
towards the United States shortly after the Revolutionary war ;
and the feeling was reciprocated with enthusiasm. He “ drew
down on himself no little odium by the efforts he made to pre-
vent smuggling between the new United States and the British
Colonies,” according to the Encyclopedia Britannica.

If Nelson and his fellows do actually revisit the place in
spirit, they must have been distinctly unhappy on July 4, 1918,
when a party of American naturalists celebrated our national
holiday at the old dockyard.

Early in the morning of that day Governor Best called us up
by telephone to express his cordial good wishes, saying that he
remembered what the day means to us and hoping that it would
be a happy one. Nothing could have more forcibly impressed
us with the cordial relationship now happily existing between
the great English-speaking nations.

At our suggestion the historic flag of Clarence House was
brought over and spread to the breeze beside the stars and
stripes in front of the officers’ quarters. After breakfast an
imposing personage of colored extraction asked for an inter-
view, and, bowing low, delivered himself as follows: “ We un-
derstand, perfessor, that this day is your Xmas; and [| desire,

ENGLISH HARBOR 89

with your permission, to bring my string band and give you
pleasure.” I explained that the day was a national and not a
religious holiday with us, and accepted the proffered entertain-
ment with thanks.

Soon the music was heard in the direction of the dockyard
gate; and the band, led by Potter, marched around to the front
of the quarters, countermarched, and took its place beneath the
veranda on which we were assembled. The band consisted of
six pieces in the hands of men and boys down to the age of a
little fellow of eight or ten. There were a fiddle, two guitars, a
mandolin, a triangle and a “pipe.” This last was literally a
two-inch gas pipe, bent at one end like an umbrella handle, into
which a boy blew with distended cheeks and produced a series
of deep grunts all in the same pitch and keeping excellent time.
It seemed to function as a bass drum in the aggregation.

At the sound of this inspiring music the servants gathered
from all quarters and a dance was soon in full swing. Even
the ponderous cook was grasped around a fraction of her gen-
erous waist by Potter himself, and the shuffle of bare feet kept
time with the booming of the pipe. They danced with much
swaying of the body and little movement of the feet, their faces
illuminated with an ecstasy of exalted emotion. Such, I im-
agine, was the face of David, as he ‘‘ danced before the Lord”!

This music kept up for several hours. In the afternoon we
had speeches appropriate to the occasion. By all odds the best

TERRE Oy Soe GRE ico ae PG

TH et t ra man Li

il We a ial Bu tas Stil

90 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Fic. 23. ‘* PILLARS OF HERCULES,’ ENTRANCE TO ENGLISH HARBOR.

Fic. 24. Tur FOURTH OF JULY DANCE AT THE DOCKYARD.

ENGLISH HARBOR 91

of these was an impromptu one by the Rev. Hal Shepherd of
St. Paul Parish, who gave a snappy address, full of patriotism
and good will.

By a curious coincidence we were staying at Government
House at St. Johns on July 20, when the Governor received and
read to us a cablegram announcing the success of the American
troops in the initial drive which developed into the victorious
offensive that ended the Great War. That evening, after din-
ner, we joined most cordially in toasts proposed by His Excel-
lency to “ The King,” and “ The President of the United States.”

And the memory of those two flags, side by side in that old
British stronghold, as they were in the battle line in France,
will remain with us longest of all the mental pictures of our visit
to English Harbor.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE DISTRIBUTION OF
ROCKEFELLER’S GIFT
FOR EDUCATION

IT will be remembered that on last

MR.

Christmas Day there were an-
nounced gifts by Mr. John UD.
Rockefeller of $50,000,000 to the

General Education Board and $50,-
000,000 to the Rockefeller Founda-
tion, the money to be available for
immediate use. The former gift
was primarily for the increase in
salaries in colleges and universities,
Mr. Rockefeller saying: ‘“‘ While
this gift is made for the general
corporate purposes of the board, I
should cordially endorse a decision
to use the principal, as well as the
income, as promptly and largely as
may seem wise for the purpose of
cooperating with the higher insti-
tutions of learning in raising sums
specifically devoted to the increase
of teachers’ salaries.” In trans-
mitting the gift to the Rockefeller
Foundation Mr. Rockefeller speci-
fically authorizes the trustees to
utilize both principal and income
for any of the corporate purposes
of the foundation which, as stated
in the charter, are “to promote the
well-being of mankind throughout
the world.” While imposing no re-
striction upon the discretion of the
trustees Mr. Rockefeller in his let-
ter of transmittal expresses special
interest ‘in the work being done
throughout the world in combating
disease through improvement of
medical education, public health ad-
ministration and scientific research.”

While there are serious dangers
in perpetual foundations that may
control education and research, Mr.
Rockefeller deserves sincere appre-

ciation for the manner of his gifts
and the objects to which they are
devoted. In making the principal
as well as the interest available for
immediate use, thus meeting the
emergency until the people learn the
need of adequate support of educa-
tion and research, an admirable ex-
ample is set. In combating disease
throughout the world by the pro-
motion of medical education, public
health administration and scientific
research, the foundation follows the
most important and the most prom-
ising direction of public service.

There are now announced large
appropriations from these gifts.
The general Education Board has
appropriated for endowment to in-
crease salaries the sum of $12,851,-
666 to about a hundred institutions
on condition that they shall them-
selves reach the goal they had set
end secure for the same purpose
supplementary sums aggregating
$30,613,334. Thus, these colleges
and universities if successful will
increase their endowments avail-
able for teachers’s salaries to the
extent of $43,465,000. An _ addi-
tional sum of $2,184,384 was appro-
priated covering a period of one to
three years for immediate use in
increasing salaries.

For medical education and re-
search $5,000,000 has been alloted
to endow a medical school at the
University of Rochester, Mr. George
Eastman giving $4,000,000, in addi-
tion to the $1,500,000 he had already
given for a dental dispensary. The
Foundation further gives $1,320,000
to the Washington University Med-
ical School; $1,000,000 to the Yale
Medical School; $750,000 to the

Sir NORMAN LOCKYER,

The fiftieth anniversary of whose editorship of Nature, the English weekly journal of
science, has recently been celebrated. Sir Norman Lockyer, who is now eighty-
four years of age, has been director of the Solar Physical Observatory,
London, and a leader in astronomical research.

“SUGAOW GWM GNV SOLVUVddV TVOINLOWTE 8O SINGIN AOTUA IE
GNV SNOLDNGANI YOA SUAANIONG] TVOIILOGIGQ, AO ALOLIOISNT NVOINGN VY GHG AM LAWN AOWWNYT WVITITAY OF GUICUVAV TYCUIY NOSTCG, ot,

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PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 95

Harvard Medical School and $400,-
000 to the Johns Hopkins Medical
School.

Since the Rockefeller Foundation
is cooperating with governments in
many parts of the British Empire,
it recognizes the importance of aid-
ing medical education in London,
where the training of personnel and
the setting of standards for health
work throughout the empire are so
largely centered. It has conse-
quently offered to give about $6,000,-
000 to the University of London for
the medical school and hospital of
University College. Dalhousie Uni-
versity Medical School receives
$500,000, and the Medical Research
Foundation of Elizabeth, Queen of
the Belgians, at Brussels, $200,000.

THE FOURTH ANNUAL MEET- |
ING OF THE PACIFIC DIVI-
SION OF THE AMERICAN AS-
SOCIATION FOR THE AD-
VANCEMENT OF SCIENCE

THE fourth annual meeting of
the Pacific Division was held at
Seattle in quarters provided by the
University of Washington on June
17-19, 1920. The 1919 meeting held
at Pasadena was a pronounced suc-
cess, exceeding in point of interest
and attendance any previous meet-
ing, and fully justifying the wisdom
of the natienal council in providing
for a geographic division of the
American Association to accommo-
date the large and active member-
ship residing west of the Rocky
Mountains.

Notwithstanding the long distance
between centers of population on
the Pacific coast, or perhaps rather
on account of them, the executive
committee has pursued the plan of
holding the annual meetings alter-
nately in different and widely sepa-
rated sections of the Pacific Coast
area, believing that although the
largest attendance is not to be
realized in this way, it best sub-

serves the purposes of the organiza-
tion in stimulating an active inter-
est in science throughout the dis-
trict and in promoting that coopera-
tion among: scientific men which
must be effective in meeting local
problems.

The Exploration of the North
Pacific Ocean was discussed at the
Pasadena meeting in a symposium
which outlined in a general way the
urgent need of launching this pro-
ject and the great practical benefits
which must accrue. Some of the
many scientific problems involved in
the undertaking were also presented
by prominent specialists who took
part in the symposium. Credit
should be given to Dr. Wilham E.
Ritter, of the Scripps Institution
for Biological Research, who fa-
thered this symposium and whose
vision of the great economic and
scientific advantages to be gained
by international cooperation in this
enterprise now seems in process of
realization. At least the attention
of the National Research Council
is directed to the matter and a com-
mittee has been appointed which
will report on ways and means.
This committee has already held
one meeting and will meet again
in. Honolulu in August of this year.
This enterprise is felt to be of pecu-
liar significance to the Pacific coast,
and a second symposium on “ The
Animal and Plant Resources of the
North Pacific Ocean” was_ pre-
sented at the Seattle meeting. The
fisheries, as constituting the most
considerable present resource of the
ocean, received major consideration
in this symposium, and Seattle as
the center of the fishery industry,
was the logical place in which to
develop this phase of the subject.

Thursday evening, June 17, was
devoted to the address of the retir-
ing president, Dr. John C. Merriam,
on “ The research spirit in everyday
affairs of the average man.”

96

THE PAN-PACIFIC SCIENTIFIC
CONGRESS

As the result of informal confer-
ences and much correspondence, a
scientific congress has been organ-
ized to meet at Honolulu, August 2
to 20, 1920, under the Chairman-
ship of Professor Herbert E. Gre-
gory of Yale University, now on
leave of absence for scientific work
in Hawaii.

The purpose of the congress is to
outline scientific problems of the
Pacific Ocean region and to suggest
methods for their solution; to make
a critical inventory of existing
knowledge, and to devise plans for
future studies. It is anticipated
that this congress will formulate
for publication a program of re-
search which will serve as a guide
for cooperative work for indi-
viduals, institutions and govern-
mental agencies.

Representative scientific men from
the countries whose interests in
whole or in part center in the Pa-
cific will be present, and a number
of men whose researches demand a |
knowledge of the natural history of |
the Pacific islands and shore lands |
have expressed their intention to
attend.

The program of the conference
is in the hands of the Committee on
Pacific Exploration of the National
Research Council, which consists of
the following members: John C.
Merriam, University of California, |
chairman; Wm. Bowie, U. 8S. Coast.
and Geodetic Survey; R. A. Daly,
Harvard University; William M.|
Davis, Harvard University; Barton
W. Evermann, California Academy |
of Science; Herbert E. Gregory,
Yale University; E. B. Mathews,
National Research Council; George)
F. McEwen, Scripps Institute; Al-
fred G. Mayor, Carnegie Institu-
tion; William E. Ritter, Scripps In-
stitute.

| sirable

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The meetings will be arranged to
place emphasis on the following
topics: Research desirable to in-
augurate; projects described in con-
siderable detail with reference to
their significance, and their bearing
on other fields of study. Investiga-
tions designed to lay the foundation
for a higher utilization of the eco-
nomic resources of the Pacific may
be included. Methods of coopera-
tion with a view to eliminating un-
necessary duplication of money and
energy. The best use of the funds
now available and the source of fur-
ther endowments.

In addition to those maintained
by the Federal and Territorial gov-
ernments, the active scientific or-
ganizations of Hawaii include the
Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum of
Polynesian Ethnology and Natural
History, the College of Hawaii, the
Sugar Planters’ Experiment Sta-
tion, The Marine Aquarium and the
Volcano Observatory. Between Hon-
olulu and San Francisco regular
sailings are maintained by four
steamship companies, and_ estab-
lished routes bring Hawaii into con-
nection with Canada, New Zealand,
Australia, the Philippines, China
and Japan. In order to procure de-
accommodations, reserva-
tions for both outward and return
passage should be made at an early
date.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS
WE record with regret the death
of Dr. John Nelson Stockwell, of
Cleveland, known for his contribu-
tions to mathematical astronomy;

of Marvin Hendrix Stacy, professor

of civil engineering and dean at the
University of North Carolina; of
Dr. Alexander Ferguson, professor
of pathology in the School of Medi-
cine, Cairo, and of Frederick Kolpin
Ravn, professor of plant pathology
in the Royal Agricultural College of
Denmark.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

AUGUST, 1920

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER’

By Professor A. H. LLOYD
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

neither learned nor, so far as I know, from Spencer—
I recall a course of lectures, heard in graduate school days weil
over a quarter of a century ago and given by Josiah Royce,
on the philosophy of nature. The first half of the year Royce
devoted to Benedict Spinoza, of the seventeenth century (1632-
1677), advocate of an essentially mechanicalistic or, as Royce
put it, “ world-formula” view of the universe; and the second
half, to Herbert Spencer, of the nineteenth century (1820-
1903), advocate of a biologic or, since there is a difference,
biologistic theory of the universe. The lectures on Spinoza
were among the most helpful lectures I ever heard. Royce’s
understanding of the great Jewish philosopher was keen and
sympathetic without being uncritical. Spencer, I felt then
and feel now more definitely, he failed to appreciate either pro
or con. I remember hearing him say that Spencer was a very
important man, being a thinker whom all thinkers, scientists
and philosophers, found it necessary, however easy, to refute.
The scientists, it seems, found him too philosophical; the phi-
losophers, too scientific ; so that his success may be said to have
fallen between the two. Thus he was actually and successfully
neither, because on the whole both. Just such in-between-ness,
moreover, if I may manufacture such a word, is a general
character of Spencer’s work, to be seen in other ways besides
this of its falling in between science and philosophy. But, aa

ee ‘ S I take my pen in hand”’—to begin with a quotation

1 One of three papers read at the annual “ Memorial Meeting,” cele-
brating the centenary of John Tyndall, 1820-1905, and Herbert Spencer,
1820-1903, of the Research Club, University of Michigan. The other
papers were “John Tyndall,” by Professor A. W. Smith, and “ Herbert
Spencer,” by Professor Charles H. Cooley, the former published in this
Journal, the latter to be published in the American Journal of Sociology.

VOL. XI.—7.

98 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to Royce’s view of Spencer’s importance, it amounted, as I
recall, to little more than this. By common consent Spencer
can not be or at least twenty-five years ago could not be over-
looked; for right views of the great things of life, including
the universe, the ground must first be cleared of Herbert
Spencer. Here doubtless was real tribute, but hardly flatter-
ing; it lacked, to say the least, direct enthusiasm.

Royce’s view, furthermore, while by no means without
some foundation, was nevertheless in effect distinctly unfair,
being at least only half of the truth. Royce himself, I am
sure, would not wish to be taken too seriously. Of course his
bias was always more for the great continental idealists, Kant,
Hegel, Fichte, than for the English empiricists, Bacon, Locke,
Mill, Spencer. Still, this bias aside, Spencer’s importance is
not really to be measured so much by his formal doctrines and
their technical contributions to either science or philosophy,
although these have had some value, as by the large enter-
prise which they both manifest on Spencer’s part and have in-
vited among others, the unusually general attention which, as
embodied in the Synthetic Philosophy, they attracted in Eng-
land and especially in America, as well as on the continent,
the new directions to which they effectively turned scientific
interest, and their generally transitional significance. To say
just a word in passing about Spencer on the continent, I can
not forget that after my Harvard studies in philosophy, during
the years of which I was constantly sent to the works of the
great continentals, I went to Berlin and Heidelberg only to
find that the continentals were frequently referring their
students to Locke, Spencer and others across the Channel with
great respect.

Now, in general, “‘in-between-ness,” referred to here as a
typical character of Spencer’s work, will no doubt appear more
or less ignominious; but sometimes it is really significant and
productive. Thus, as to Spencer’s success falling between sci-
ence and philosophy, while scientists never accepted or, if
accepting, soon outgrew his science, finding it too philosophical,
they were for a long time very generally disposed to accept
much of his philosophy, his agnosticism, his evolutional per-
fectionism, his general mechanicalism. Especially was his
agnosticism peculiarly grateful to them. “If religion and sci-
ence are to be reconciled,” he declared, “the basis of reconcilia-
tion must be this deepest, widest and most certain of all
facts—that the Power which the Universe manifests to us is
utterly inscrutable,” that it is “not a relative but an absolute
mystery.” Again, with flattering respect for the knowledge

?

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 99

of the scientist: “He [the scientist], more than any other,
truly knows that in its ultimate essence nothing can be known.”
Also: “ Ultimate scientific ideas .. . are all representative of
realities that can not be apprehended.” If the scientists so
welcomed Spencer’s philosophical isms, the philosophers on
their side, while objecting to his notion of philosophy as only
the general science, science of the sciences, welcomed his
special scientific compilations and formulations, buying his
large volumes, contributions to biology, psychology, sociology,
as well as his First Principles, generously. So was Spencer,
scientist and philosopher, in each one of his two capacities a
prophet not without honor save in his own country and this,
especially in his time, was important. Such mediation has at
times great value. Spencer ranks, in other words, among
those who have made the two countries, science and philosophy,
realize that they must reckon with each other; each admitting
the other to its counsels. How fitting, I venture therefore to
reflect, that this club, catholic in its organization, should cele-
brate the centenary of the great Synthetic Philosopher.

A second evidence of Spencer’s in-between-ness has to do,
not now with any general relation between science and phi-
losophy, but with the fact of Spencer’s thinking coming at a
time of transition in the history of science, when one scientific
point of view as the commanding and leading view, directly
and vitally interesting, was becoming only secondary and
mediate, yielding the leadership to another and quite different:
view, and so when philosophy was also on a new venture. To
explain my meaning here I must seem to digress a little and
also I may be telling most of you here only an old story.

Philosophy has ever been a handmaid, albeit rather inde-
pendent and not always even respectful in her service, being
quite critical and correctional at times, of positive doctrine in
one form or another. When in such service, moreover, phi-
losophy’s irrepressible and to her mistress often very discom-
fiting instinct has been for universal applications, for widest
possible—and impossible !—generalization, for liberation of the
spirit from the always too special and confining letter; and her
service itself, accordingly, has been, however obstinate the mis-
tress, what our genial professor of music with his lectures on
“Creative Listening” would be sure to style a creative service.
Thus, first, in the history of Christendom philosophy was hand-
maid of the Church, ancilla ecclesiz, and of the Church’s pecul-
lar positive doctrine, its orthodox and dogmatic theology,
which asserted, as should be remarked with special care for
the sake of the contrast to be pointed out hereafter, a single

100 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

first cause and put human life under constraint of a single in-
stitutional uniformity, essentially mechanicalistic and local in
character. Then, leaving her first position, in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries she took service under mathematics
and natural mechanics, for which—now mark the contrast—
causation and uniformity were no longer single and institu-
tional or locally mechanical, but general, that is, extended to
include all nature. So came into the logic of science the now
well-known principles of wniversal causation and of the uni-
formity of ALL nature. Science has never been without her
debt to theology!

But, thirdly, in this story of Christendom’s great adventure
in civilization or, more narrowly, of philosophy’s creative
service of science, and now with special interest for our study
of Spencer, biology—under its conception of organism in dis-
tinction from mechanism, an organism being supermechanical
or being mechanism become general and naturally, innately
versatile, versatile even to the point of genius, and of evolution
in distinction from only once-upon-a-time creation—biology, I
say, became the mistress of the handmaid of all positive doc-
trine, philosophy. And a fickle servant indeed seems that
handmaid, so often through the centuries changing her place.
But, say what you will of her or of other handmaids, our story
does show an effective and creative service. Theology, me-
chanics, biology; institutional conformity, natural conformity,
natural versatility,—these do make a wonderful succession at
once of positive interests and of bases of productive general-
ization. Well might we stop and dwell at length upon them
and their progression. But stop we may not. It now con-
cerns us only that to the period of philosophy’s third service or
perhaps more exactly to the later stages of the transition from
the second to the third, Spencer and his Synthetic Philosophy,
at onee mechanicalistic in form and biologistic in meaning,
seem to belong.?

2Tn an article, already published in this journal, May, 1920, “ Philoso-
phy in the Service of Science,” I have tried to tell the story, given so briefly
here, in more detail and, so to speak, with an additional chapter. Thus
I have, among other things, pointed out that at the present time phi-
losophy seems even once more to have changed her place, the new science,
psychology, become a natural science, being now the mistress instead of
biology and the conscious individual succeeding the biologist’s organism in
the sequence of ruling conceptions. The whole sequence, then, from theol-
ogy to psychology, besides being interesting for Spencer’s place and part
in it, is interesting also as a record of man’s original aloofness from
nature gradually turned into the closest intimacy. Certainly psychology

as a natural science quite outdoes biology and organic evolution in its
intimations of the unity of man and nature.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 101

Of course the biologism of the later nineteenth century had
its preparatory antecedents. On the continent Leibnitz, Kant
and Hegel, not to mention others, had transformed and so pre-
pared logic and metaphysics for the new intellectual order.
In England Hume and the Utilitarians, including notably John
Stuart Mill, had been serviceable in their way, while nearly or
quite contemporary with Spencer (1820-1905) we have Darwin
(1809-1882) and Huxley (1825-1895) and—in France—Au-
guste Comte (1798-1857). Possibly the Scotch geologist, Sir
Charles Lyell (1797-1875) should be named also, although in
his work Spencer appears to have found more to reject and
even resent than to accept. There was also the great physicist,
Tyndall, 1820-1893. But, to speak at large, the biological
theories of the time in their logic or their metaphysics or their
science, implied or explicit, were obviously mechanicalistic, as
in Spencer’s case; although, significantly, with the mechanical-
istic biologism, there was always in evidence, yet hardly in the
leading réle, a contemporary vitalism or occultism. Lyell was
an early exponent of this and certainly biology, substituting
the super-mechanical organism for mechanism, could hardly
avoid some vitalism hidden or indirect when not direct and
open. This might seem reactionary; but also progress de-
manded it and, when the mechanicalists themselves denied and
opposed, others were bound to rise up and protest. The very
mechanicalists, moreover, had to admit some vitalistic prin-
ciple into their houses, opening a back door for it, however
tightly closed they might be keeping their front doors. Spencer
himself, as I shall show, was not without his own indirect
vitalism or occultism.

Spencer’s mechanicalistic doctrines, first to take our atten-
tion, not only show his heritage from the past, but also, in
addition to what has already been pointed out here, afford a
very interesting example of an important principle in the de-
velopment of science or of thought generally. A hint of this
was given in an earlier paragraph when reference was made
to one intellectual interest, becoming only mediate and yielding
leadership to another. That sequence of interests or discip-
lines—dogmatic theology, mechanics, biology—is certainly
more than just a sequence. Always in the sequence an earlier
standpoint has become the medium or the method of what
follows. The accepted reality of one time becomes only the
way of looking, the formal useful points of view, say the work-
ing hypothesis, for the investigations of the next. In philo-
sophical terms, an earlier century’s metaphysics is a later
century’s methodology or epistemology. Just so, then, a pro-

102 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

gressing science or philosophy accumulates its useful stand-
points and methods, its intellectual milieu, its categories, its
mediating ideas or questions; exactly as for a progressing real
life the cherished institutes of one era turn into the secular
instruments of the next. All of which, I suppose, amounts
only to saying, but I hope in a stimulating way, that new wine
must always be put in old bottles. But fortunately or un-
fortunately, especially in times of critical transitions, men are
all too likely to lag or lapse, confusing meaning with method,
end with means. Many a scientist has done this, as well as
many a practical man. Many a scientist has taken his work-
ing standpoint too seriously, hoarding it as does any miser,
conceiving it as representing reality; and, to come now to the
point, of those who have done just this Spencer is undoubtedly
one; a notable example of it, too, for being both scientist and
philosopher. Spencer has had mechanicalism for his manner
of thought, his method, his phenomenology, while an organic
world, the world of the biologist and evolutionist, has been the
real object of his interest; and yet at least not clearly has he
distinguished between the two. In his numerous changes of
statement, as the years passed, there may be discoverable a
growing feeling for the difference and so a freer biologism;
but, on the whole, I am of the opinion that he never really
escaped from his confusion of a standpoint and method, which
the past had given his times, with the new meaning which was
the real object. A biologist may have machinery in his labora-
tory ; also he may picture mechanisms in the world he observes;
and, studying specific positive acts and processes, he may
actually find perfect mechanisms; but he may not stop with a
purely mechanicalistic theory of the universe. Happily even
our present hero did not stop there. He had, as has been said,
his own occultism.

Perhaps, instead of going on with my tale, I should now
give some illustrations, taken from Spencer’s specific doctrines,
of his mechanicalistic ‘‘ possession.”” Before adducing such
illustrations, however, I would consider his occultism, his very
real although hidden super-mechanicalism, that the illustra-
tions, when introduced, may illustrate this also. In his occult-
ism Spencer will be seen a third time to have fallen between.
Neither scientist nor philosopher, neither mechanicalistic nor
freely biologistic, he proves also to be in between the tradi-
tional occultism and a natural, consistent evolutionism. A
certain surviving, albeit secularized and disguised spiritualism
—notice the small initial letter—has a real hold on his rational-
istic science-and-philosophy.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 103

Like most if not all of the earlier modern evolutionists,
Spencer undoubtedly labored under a sort of tradition, I would
almost go so far as to say a superstition, of an external, quite
separately real, independent and objective environment, an
outer and quite different world; persisting notion from earlier
centuries. Evolution and biologism generally were plainly
bound to imply and, becoming clear as to their meaning, to
assert the real and vital unity of man and nature, of organism
and environment; but science came to the evolution-hypothesis
with the habits of mind of the Middle Ages. Whatever the
ultimate logical demands of the new theory, then, in a long-
standing practise, man, as to his.real worth and character, was
one thing, a creature not of this earth; the natural world, quite
another, external and alien; and by easy analogy, say anthro-
pomorphically, any living creature, any organism, and its en-
vironment were simply accepted as constituting a similar
dualism. From man down even to the incoherently quivering
protoplasmic mass the living being was thought of as having
in its life the old problem of adaptation to something not really
of its kind. Exactly so in the centuries of the Church’s domi-
nation man had to live at least for a time, with reference to
alien surroundings, his real self being quite aloof. Even a
century or two of rationalism, while largely dispelling from
nature the ghosts—almost too substantial in the old days to be
so called—and the occult and arbitrary powers of all sorts, had
failed to dispell the general notion of nature being independent
and external. This circumstance, I am sure, had much to do,
in the first place, with evolution’s early mechanicalism and,
secondly, with evolution’s indirect, when not open and direct,
occultism. However perfect the machinery, institutional and
official at first, then physical or natural, adaptations could not
be secured without help from outside. Whether exercising an
evil spirit or winning favor from a good one, man had to de-
pend on very formal and mechanical rites, perhaps on strict
exactness of some phrase or sentence, and then also on help
from Heaven or, as our university bulletins would put it, “‘some
equivalent.”

That Spencer did hold positively to an external and alien
environment, making his general view of evolution, as well as
his specific doctrines, accord with this idea, has always seemed
to me to be clearly indicated, among other ways, in his em-
phatic agnosticism already remarked here. Science, you will
remember, as well as religion or theology, he insisted, was con-
fronted, not with a merely relative, but with an absolute mys-
tery. In ultimate character and reality nature, as well as God,

104 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

was absolutely beyond man’s reach. It is true that in his auto-
biography Spencer complains that his Unknowable, as pre-
sented in his First Principles of Philosophy, was getting alto-
gether too much attention, that many of his readers and
eritics were scarcely noticing anything else; while he himself
regarded it as almost if not quite secondary in importance to
his doctrines about the knowable. Why should so many of those
readers imagine that the whole Synthetic Philosophy must
stand or fall by the Unknowable? Yet herein, to my mind,
Spencer was more puzzled than candid. Certainly he shows
himself, to say the least, quite lacking in appreciation of his
own philosophy and its agnosticism. His Unknowable was in
reality a critical point—perhaps even his heel of Achilles. It
summarily alienated the natural world and so did perpetuate
the medieval tradition—whether for reactionary effects or for
progress need not now be said—within the very camp of
rationalistic science and philosophy. Towards the end of his
life Spencer confesses that orthodox ideas had been positively
repulsive to him, more so than had been either necessary or
wise, and it may be that his earlier and over-impulsive reaction
to orthodoxy only played a trick on him, rendering him unre-
flective, more opposed than critical, and so caught by his enemy
unawares, as very often happens with negatives. In any case,
in Spencer’s philosophy man, with all other living creatures,
is left still with the problem of salvation in an alien world and
solution of this problem necessarily had to conform to type.
That Spencer himself preferred the word adjustment, adap-
tation or accommodation to the, to him, repulsive word salva-
tion does not affect the issue at all. Like salvation, adaptation
had to rely on blind, incoherent, undifferentiated mechanical re-
actions supplemented by help from outside. Spencer, again,
did not call the source of this help God or Providence or any-
thing so conventional and widely respectable; but he was not
less a worshiper at the altar of the occult. What saved his
creatures was Happy Chance! Bless-ed be its name! Rational-
ism had indeed dispelled the old occult powers; no longer were
these the almost universally accredited agents of man’s salva-
tion—or of his destruction; but the spirit of medievalism still
walked so long as Chance held the réle of Providence. Truly I
can read Spencer without having my hair stand on end—how
violent metaphors do sometimes become!—for the ghostly
notions I constantly meet in his books; but mine is after all a
phlegmatic nature and, say what you will, although one’s hair
may lie quite flat, Spencer’s philosophy, its mechanicalism, its
supermechanicalism, its biologism and all, is only a sort of
rationalistic distillation and objectification of the orthodox

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 105

scheme of salvation. If to say this is to seem to ridicule Spen-
cer, I must insist that my purpose is not ridicule. Laugh good-
naturedly we may; but our laughter is not necessarily deroga-
tory. New theory has to depend, as was said, on old habits of
thought for its mediation and humor is inevitable. Moreover,
in the present instance, the salvation itself gets new meaning
when it is found repeated in the adaptive activity requiring at
once mechanism and favoring chance, of every living organism!

Spencer’s biographers, including himself, make very clear
the rationalistic influences of his up-bringing. So far as we
know, he never even had formally to reject the old theology, be-
cause the problems it stirred up seem never to have arisen as
serious problems for him. Constantly he was meeting men of
liberal and independent views, of the scientific spirit, objective
in their outlook. Early he showed antipathy towards classical
studies and humanistic education generally. Miracles, more
discussed in his day than in ours, puzzling so many, seemed not
to puzzle him, for miracles there simply were not; and mere
sentiment counted for nothing, for of course it is always con-
servative. Spencer’s father, it is true, was a Methodist turned
Quaker, his mother a Methodist without any turning whatever ;
but apparently just this difference in his home made him, as if
in self-defense, neuter in re. All these influences, then, of
Spencer’s life contributed to making him rationalistic, intel-
lectually cold and objective, and yet, as has been shown already
and will develop further, his philosophy also bears the sure
marks of his outgrown home as well as of conservative England
at large, suggesting withal the persistent scent of Thomas
Moore’s still fragrant roses. Great changes may come to
science and philosophy, theology yielding to biology; but, as
with broken and shattered vases, the past is hard if not impos-
sible to lose. A man may look with all candor at what lies quite
without; he may court the wholly objective view; he may cast
aside all that is institutional in letter or in spirit; but, to use as
a figure what has its literal meaning too, he can not escape the
fact that his parents gave him his eyes. Generalization, with
its ever wider and deeper view and different valuations, may
bring changes; but the new view or the new life must always
conserve the past. Contempt for the old, accordingly, and
blindness to the new are both lacking in realism, if not also in
candor. In Spencer’s case we have seen how his contempt may
have been the cause of his blindness.

I turn, finally, to some illustrations among Spencer’s doc-
trines. Perhaps I should consider first his comprehensive for-
mula for evolution:

106 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

An integration of matter and concomitant dissipation of motion;
during which the matter passes from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity
to a definite coherent heterogeneity; and during which the retained motion
undergoes parallel transformations.

But, assuming that I could satisfactorily and intelligibly
discuss that remarkable formula, focus of the Synthetic Phil-
osophy, I fear I could not do so in the time at my disposal. In-
stead, therefore, I have chosen for your attention three lesser
but wholly characteristic doctrines, making my selection some-
what at random. Thus, first, I shall consider the doctrine of
adaptation or adjustment already in fact partially indicated;
secondly, the doctrine of personal individualism; and, thirdly,
that of the finally perfectly adjusted man; these doctrines com-
ing from the Principles of Biology, the Principles of Sociology
and the Principles of Ethics, respectively.

Spencer’s doctrine of adaptation is a doctrine, shared by him
with a contemporary Scottish philosopher of some note, Alex-
ander Bain, and accordingly sometimes known as the Spencer-
Bain theory, which pictures an organism, confronted by a
strange environment, in a condition of action through random
impulses, incoherent, undifferentiated nervous discharges,
manifold indefinite mechanical reactions, and assumes that
chance will bring a successful adaptation from one of these
impulses, discharges, reactions. The theory thus takes very
seriously the very familiar method of trial and error, except
that the trials are wholly random and success has to depend
quite on fortune. The more numerous the trials, obviously, the
merrier the probability of a success and, I suppose, at infinity a
success would be assured. An adaptation happily secured, this
is, so to speak, registered and stored and becomes henceforth a
line of least resistance for future action, say a definite activity
in repertory. Of course, if any real change occur in the en-
vironment, the process must be renewed from the beginning;
while with manifold renewals an accumulation of acts in reper-
tory is effected and the organism acquires a complex and ver-
satile life answering to its varied environment. The whole
process, moreover, revealing the progress or development of
the creature concerned, may be described, in terms already
heard, as a passing “ from an indefinite incoherent homogeneity
to a definite coherent heterogeneity,” so that, after all, we are
getting some understanding of Spencer’s general formula for
evolution. Parenthetically, if at times Spencer seems to us a
bit commonplace and prosaic and even superficial, we must re-
member that his work belongs to the third quarter of the last
century. Indeed his First Principles appeared in first edition
over fifty years ago.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 107

Spencer’s doctrine, quite consistent within its premises, is
to be criticized just for its premises. Before a wholly strange
environment, which is assumed, any organism must be, or at
once be rendered, quite incoherent, broken, without unity, not
even vitally or really an organism, and so must depend on
chance for success and on mere multiplication of chance suc-
cesses for growth. But, as we know, consistent evolution can
not suppose a strange, external environment. Accordingly the
theory has at its start a false foundation. Indeed it is also
more than questionable if the theory has any natural right to
its claim of coherence being attained eventually ; for not merely
would adjustment, or evolution in general, depend on the occult
in the form of happy chance, but also it would depend on the
occult in the form of an agency of coherence. Coherence is
certainly quite impossible against an alien environment and
it can never be acquired by a mere manifold of successes.
“Favor my random ventures,’ we who have ears hear Spen-
cer’s organism praying fervently to the Unknowable, to that
absolutely mysterious Power behind all things; “Favor my
ventures and, above all, give me, unworthy and hopelessly
broken creature that I am, a real and an abiding coherence;”
and, while sympathetically we who have hearts may hope that
so earnest a prayer will be answered abundantly, we have once
more to be entertained. That a creature of Spencer’s should be
thus brought to kneeling and piety!

The life of an organism Spencer defines as “the power of
continuous adjustment of internal relations to external rela-
tions.” Here, then, is further light on his doctrine of adjust-
ment. Professor John Watson finds the definition true enough
physically or mechanically, but inadequate biologically.* A
stone’s power of adjustment, as it settles, for example, in the
yielding earth or as it meets the blow of the shattering ham-
mer, might be so described; but ‘“‘a living being [with its own
internal relations] is a unity in a different sense from that in
which we speak of a stone.” A living being, an organism, must
be originally and persistently endowed with an inviolable unity
and self-identity and therefore must not for a moment be
thought of as ever adjusting itself to an environment so ex-
ternal or in such a way external as to violate that unity or iden-
tity and in consequence to require a miraculous restoration.
So is Watson’s criticism quite in line with that suggested here.
Moreover, Watson’s emphasis on the differences between unity
or coherence of a stone and that of an organism and again be-
tween the processes of adjustment of the two unities to their

3“ Comte, Mill and Spencer’ By John Watson, LL.D. Pp. 103 sq.
The Macmillan Company. 1895.

108 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

respective external surroundings has suggested to me that,
meeting in Spencer’s philosophy, are to be found, not only two
ideas of unity, the mechanical and the biological, and two corre-
sponding ideas of adjustment, but also two ideas of the ex-
ternal. In any case, had Spencer and others of his time really
appreciated that biologism and its evolution-hypothesis were
bringing to human consciousness and feeling, to be of value
both in common human practise and in general scientific theory,
a qualitatively different external world, external I mean under
a distinctly new valuation, in a distinctly new sense, from that
of earlier centuries, I am sure they would not have taken the
theory of random discharges, chance successes, and only even-
tual and virtually magically given coherence quite so literally.
Historically unity, adjustment, externality are by no means uni-
vocal terms and it is simple-minded and prosaic to suppose
them so. Theology, mechanics and biology have given each one
three different meanings. A little more poetry in Spencer’s
worthy soul had served him well! And yet, when all is said, it
may be added, as the final word, that in thinking as in life to
hasten progress is often to obstruct it.

Secondly, I would consider with you Spencer’s personal in-
dividualism. This appears in various ways and places; in his
writings on education, urging primary regard for the indi-
vidual; in his hedonistic ethics; in his political papers, asser-
tively democratic; and, especially, in his Sociology. In the
last under evident pressure from the tendency to biologism and
from the biological idea of organism, but under pressure also
from old habits of thinking, he raises the question of society
being an organism and decides to concede organic character
only under what some would style, with timely allusion, sena-
torial reservations. Certainly outwardly society remains, when
Spencer has finished, no organism at all and individuality ap-
pears to have lost none of its traditional prerogatives. Yet, of
course, there was progress in the mere putting of the question
and possibly, had Spencer asked, not if society were an organ-
ism, but if it were organic, his conclusion had been different.
The latter query had allowed some imagination. He held back,
however, here as in other matters. He did find certain sim-
ilarities of society to an organism: Both commonly, normally,
increase in size, as they get older; in complexity, too, and in
interdependence of parts; and both are wholes that live on in
spite of, or even because of, the death of their parts. Still none
of these things show any very deep notion of what constitutes
real organic character and, if they did in any degree, the in-
tended argument would be discredited so soon as the four
points of dissimilarity, emphasized by Spencer, had been re-

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 109

marked. Thus, unlike an organism, society has no visible form
and no continuity of mass and has distinctly autonomous parts
and parts each with its own independent consciousness. How
superficial this is both as to its dissimilarities and as to its
similarities; how dependent the argument of it, pro and con,
on inadequate tests. Why dwell on questions of mere mass and
continuity that must be irrelevant? Why fall back on autonomy
and independent consciousness, when these, as sure to be under-
stood, can only obscure the real point? Why let the idea of
organism, individual or social, suffer thus from traditional
physical tests, on the one hand, and traditional notions of the in-
dividual as an unworldly, spiritual being, on the other, when the
idea itself was really a call for important revisions of both?
Spencer’s argument, then, proves and disproves nothing.
Nevertheless, there was, I repeat, progress in the mere putting
of the question. Any important question or issue, once clearly
put, is always stronger than the superficial ways in which it
may be attacked and momentarily solved or than the conven-
tional reservations with which its solution may be compro-
mised or more seriously obstructed.

Possibly, to indulge my own imagination, Spencer was
thinking of society as confronted, like an individual, with a
strange and hostile environment and so rendered inorganic, in-
coherent, loosely pluralistic; but, whether this was the imagery
in his mind or not, his conclusion of a pluralistic individualism
is wholly consistent with it and with its various conservative
implications. Even an individual organism, we should remem-
ber, was made incoherent, a loose plurality of acts, by its ex-
ternal surroundings and, neither originally nor eventually,
could honestly claim any true organic character of its own.
Why! On this showing Spencer might have said that society
was at least as organic as any organism! His insistent indi-
vidualism had really suffered no serious shock thereby. As
to his intellectual conservatism, which we are constantly con-
fronting, there is surely in it a suggestion of the reserve which
the Englishman has seldom if ever failed to exhibit, holding
to his past in his most progressive moves whether of thought
or of life.

For the rest, in this account of Spencer’s individualism and
his hesitation to see anything really organic in society, I would
say, even a third time, that his question alone was a step for-
ward. Indeed this is true of his other characteristic queries.
While so many of his various answers were soon discredited,
the questions themselves were vital and the new direction which
they undoubtedly gave to scientific interest was significant and
productive. He may have resented the old humanities, senti-

110 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ment, orthodoxy and other things in kind; but he turned sci-
ence to human affairs in a very effective way. Is society or-
ganic? What really is this thing we have been calling life?
How indeed do organisms accomplish their undoubtedly suc-
cessful adaptations to environment? Or human creatures, in-
dividually or socially, to the natural world? Prophetic and
creative interests, all of these; getting from Spencer only con-
strained and inadequate answers, but only more persistent as
questions on this account.

Lastly, Spencer was an evolutional perfectionist. All in
good time, but by gradual evolution, not by cataclysmic up-
heaval, the millennium would arrive! Spencer’s doctrine of the
finally perfectly adapted man, or of the finally perfectly adapted
humanity, is to my mind at once the most significant and the
most characteristic of all his doctrines. It shows him so clearly
“in between” the old and the new. It shows him bringing
spiritual man to earth, but also raising earth at last to an only
Golden Heaven. Every day will be Sunday by and by! Not
that Spencer said this in such words; but such was his vision.
What he did say to that effect is worth quoting even at some
length. In his “Data of Ethics,’ a late work appearing in
1882, after apologizing and elaborately explaining himself for
distinguishing between an absolute and a relative ethics and
for the apparently resulting dualism, with one code for crea-
tures not of this present earth, and another for present earthly
and commonly human creatures, he proceeds as follows:

The alleged necessary precedence of Absolute Ethics over Relative
Ethics is thus, I think, further elucidated. One who has followed the
general argument thus far, will not deny that an ideal social being may
be conceived as so constituted that his spontaneous activities are con-
gruous with the conditions imposed by the social environment formed
by other such beings. In many places, and in various ways, I have
argued that conformably with the laws of evolution in general, and con-
formably with the laws of organization in particular, there has been, and
is, in progress, an adaptation of humanity to the social state, changing
it in the direction of such an ideal congruity. And the corollary before
drawn and here repeated, is that the ultimate man is one in whom this
process has gone so far as to produce a correspondence between all the
promptings of his nature and all the requirements of his life as carried
on in society. If so, it is a necessary implication that there exists an
ideal code of conduct formulating the behavior of the completely adapted
man in the completely evolved society. Such a code is that here called
Absolute Ethics as distinguished from Relative Ethics—a code the in-
junctions of which are to be considered as absolutely right in contrast
with those that are relatively right or least wrong; and which, as a system
of ideal conduct, is to serve as a standard for our guidance in solving,
as well as we can, the problems of real conduct.

4The “First Principles’ was published in 1862.

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HERBERT SPENCER 111

So wrote Spencer, scientist and philosopher; evolutionist,
too; but under restraint, being also perfectionist and, except
that he set no thousand year limit, millenniumist. All in good
time, he assures us absolute right will have become as natural
as it is right and, man having then come to a perfect corre-
spondence between his natural promptings and the require-
ments or obligations of his surroundings, between his internal
relations and their external relations, the true and absolute
ethics, so impractical now, will be practical as well as true, and
confidently and safely can be installed or promulgated; being
of course for the imperfect present only ideal, abstract, other-
worldly. Safely, I said, because, according to Spencer, who
would bring his ideal to earth, the moral ideal is pleasure.
Only perfect men can safely be pleasure-seekers; not so, human
men. Herbert Spencer should have read William Paley, who
at the close of the eighteenth century had successfully shown
the hedonistic character of orthodox Christianity.®

Spencer’s philosophy, I conclude, is an imprisoned biology
or biologism. In form and spirit it is often conventional, tra-
ditional, commonplace, prosaic; its manner of expression, its
literary style, shows the one-sided character of his education;
but also, as a philosophy, it is productively quick with real, in-
sistent and especially in his day very timely problems. He
himself had great confidence, a Britisher’s confidence, in his
work; as is shown, if showing be necessary, by his remarkable
persistence and accomplishment under circumstances of inval-
idism that would have discouraged others. It must be a real
tribute to him, much more positive than that quoted from
Royce, that we can see, as it were, looking out from behind the
imprisoning bars, the new view of life and the world, which
biologism, suceeding seventeenth and eighteenth century me-
chanicalism, has really effected.

5 Spencer’s millennial perfectionism, it is worth while observing, il-
luminates a certain point, not indeed touched upon here, of his sociological
doctrine. Perfection accomplished, there will be, it is true, perfect accord
between individuals and society; but up to the time of such accomplish-
ment individuals, exactly as Spencer represents, must always be naturally
more or less anti-social or at least assertively independent of the body
politic, and society as served by the state must therefore be at all times
more or less compulsive or tyrannical and in periods of war or crisis
of any kind distinctly so.

112 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY (| ( (920)

THE HISTORIAN AND THE HISTORY OF
SCIENCE’

By Dr. HARRY ELMER BARNES
THE NEW SCHOOL FOR SOCIAL RESEARCH

1. THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE AND THE INTERPRETATION OF
HISTORY

HE history of science has been a subject of much discus-
a sion and a field for considerable productive activity, but
most of such discussion and activity has been carried on by
natural scientists. It is a subject, however, which ought to at-
tract much interest from historians of liberal tendencies, and
this article will attempt in a very brief way to estimate the sig-
nificance of the history of science for historiography, to sum-
marize the progress thus far made in the subject in this coun-
try, and to introduce a few generalizations concerning the
desirable method of presenting it through the cooperation of
historians and scientists.

The view of the significance of the history of science as a
branch of historiography must necessarily vary with the atti-
tude taken with respect to the nature of history.2 If one ad-
heres to the standpoint of Vico, Hegel, Kidd and the religion-
ists, or to that of Thierry, Lamartine, Carlyle and the Roman-
ticists, with their eulogy of heroic biography and their definite

1 Revision of a paper read at the Conference on the History of Science
at the American Historical Association Meeting, Cleveland, Ohio, Decem-
ber 31, 1919. The Conference was presided over by Professor George L.
Burr, and papers were read by Professors T. Wingate Todd of Western
Reserve University, Louis C. Karpinski of the University of Michigan,
Lynn Thorndike of Western Reserve University, and Henry Crew of
Northwestern University. It was the first general session of the Ameri-
can Historical Association ever devoted entirely to the history of science.

2 The writer has attempted to summarize some of the various inter-
pretations of history in his article on “ History: Its Rise and Develop-
ment,” in the new edition of the Encyclopedia Americana. See also the
article on “ The Interpretation of History,” by James T. Shotwell in the
American Historical Review, July, 1918, pp. 692 ff.

3 Cf. the presidential address of William Roscoe Thayer to the Ameri-
can Historical Association at Cleveland, December 29, 1919, on “ Recent
Fallacies in History,” American Historical Review, January, 1920. See
also his article on “ Vagaries of Historians,” in the American Historical
Review, January, 1919, especially pp. 186 ff.

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 115

trend toward obscurantism, then there can, indeed, be little or
no sympathy expected with the history of science. Nor can
much more interest or approval be hoped for those who, with
Seeley or Freeman, hold that history is the “biography of
states” or “past politics,” unless perhaps they might grudg-
ingly admit that the invention of gunpowder or the steamboat
has had significant results for the growth of national states
and world empires, or that the scientific achievements lying
back of the art of making modern artillery or steel armor for
dreadnoughts may have slightly influenced the course of mod-
ern armed conflicts or greatly complicated the problems of na-
tional budgets. In fact, little sympathy or interest can be ex-
pected from the “eminent” and “ respectable” historians as a
group. No doubt President Thayer has already classified this
conference as one of the most obvious “recent fallacies of
historians.”? The only type of historian who is likely to give
serious and sympathetic attention to the history of science is
the member of that renegade and outlaw, but ever increasing
group which has transcended archaic and illogical conventions
and dared to view history as a record of human achievement
conceived in its broadest sense as the progressive establishment
of human control over nature and the increasingly more perfect
adaptation of nature to human use.‘ In this process science,
pure and applied, has unquestionably been the dominating
factor.°®

This position can best be substantiated by adopting at the
outset the more recent anthropological theories regarding the
origins of science. Our concepts in this respect were for years
perverted by the vicious generalization of Frazer to the effect
that all of primitive science was to be found wholly in the realm
of the occult, or, more specifically, in magical activities.° There
has been no more significant revision of our anthropological
background of cultural origins than that which has been forced
through the critical work of Boas and his disciples, Marett and
others, which has finally demonstrated the generic relation of
religion and magic and has revealed the origins of science as
proceeding primarily from the discoveries growing out of the
everyday secular and commonplace activities of primitive peo-
ples, however much such discoveries may later give a certain

4See the introductory paragraphs to the article on “ History” by
James T. Shotwell in the eleventh edition of the Encyclopedia Americana.
See also James Harvey Robinson, “ The New History,’ Chapter V.

5 There is a brilliant passage on this point in Gabriel Tarde’s “ Les

Transformations du Pouvoir,” pp. 188-190.
¢J. G. Frazer, “ The Golden Bough,” Vol. I., pp. 220-243.

VoL. x1.—8.

114 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

religious sanctity to their makers.”7. To be sure, this view does
not deny the all-pervading religious milieu of primitive life in
all its phases, but assumes that magic, as a phase of primitive
religion, has evident associations with primitive science and
. economic life. Nor do the more critical anthropologists claim
to be able to clear up from a study of primitive peoples all the
problems connected with the position of magic and science in
the Middle Ages—a period which is a great historic complex of
primitive survivals and advanced cultural states and products.
The critical anthropologist admits freely that the medieval
period is one preeminently for the historian to deal with, but
insists that the historian should start right with an up-to-date
and scientific anthropological outlook.’

When the origins of science are viewed in this more ac-
curate manner the history of science has a peculiar significance
for the general interpretation of historical development. The
vital and probably causal dependence of political forms and
processes upon economic factors and institutions has now been
so well established as to make a reminder of the situation seem
almost an antiquated platitude.® It has been less frequently
and less clearly pointed out, however, that the progress of
science has in turn given shape and direction to economic devel-
opment from the very beginnings of cultural history. There
have been those who have questioned this generalization and
who have asserted that pure science has had no genetic connec-
tion with applied science and industrial inventions. They have
based their position on the alleged derivation of science from
primitive magic, which certainly did not direct and dominate,
however much it may have been associated with, primitive in-
dustry, and on the assumption that the inventions which initi-
ated the Industrial Revolution, the greatest economic trans-
formation in human history, bore little sequential relation to
previous advances in pure science. It has already been shown
how inaccurate is the assumption of the identity between prim-

7 An excellent critical review of the leading anthropological theories
concerning religion and magic is given by Dr. A. A. Goldenweiser in an
article on “ Magic and Religion” in the Psychological Bulletin, March,
1919, pp. 82 ff.

8 This subject has been surveyed by Dr. Lynn Thorndike in his “ The
Place of Magic in the Intellectual History of Europe.” Professor Thorn-
dike is now engaged upon an exhaustive treatment of the field of medieval
science and magic.

® The literature on the subject is admirably analyzed by Professor
E. R. A. Seligman in his “ Economic Interpretation of History.” The

works of Professors F. J. Turner and C. A. Beard have been the most
stimulating American application of the doctrine.

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 115

itive science and magic. The case of the Industrial Revolution,
when critically examined, is not less damaging to the views of
this group. Watt’s perfection of the steam engine was based
upon studies of atmospheric pressure by Torricelli and Von
Guericke, Huyghen’s experiments with the gun-powder engine,
Boyle’s study of gases and pneumatics, and upon the develop-
ments following the experiments of Denys Papin, the Marburg
physicist, as well as the contemporary work of Joseph Black on
latent heat. A great part of the engineering achievements
which have made possible modern industrialism and the indis-
pensable means of transportation have been founded upon the
development of mechanics from Galileo and Newton onward.
Even the stock objection to the scientific interpretation which
centers about the textile inventions from Kay to Cartwright are
not as impregnable as earlier supposed. For example, the
spindles and belt wheel of the spinning-wheel from which Har-
greaves developed his “spinning jenny,” as well as the water-
wheel which early propelled these machines, were a combina-
tion of several epoch-making inventions of primitive scientists.
Moreover, from the late eighteenth century to the present time
industrial progress has become more and more closely asso-
ciated with highly scientific technological advances, such as mod-
ern industrial chemistry and the remarkable development of
modern mechanical and industrial engineering. While there
can, thus, be little doubt that even in the past pure and applied
science has determined economic institutions, it is certain that
this relation will become much more intimate in the future—
which, as Professor Thornstein Veblen has insisted, is to be
preeminently the technological age in which not only competi-
tive individual economic success but also the “wealth of na-
tions ” will depend no longer purely upon superior commercial
sagacity, but upon even very slight and extremely refined tech-
nological superiority. If, then, we may accept the priority of
scientific to economic processes, those who adhere to the views
of Bacon, Condorcet, Buckle, Draper and Andrew D. White
have advanced one step beyond Feurbach and Marx in the in-
terpretation of history. Finally, to the importance of the his-
tory of science in explaining the development of the most potent
instrument by which man has progressed through the adapta-
tion of nature to his use, there should be added the unusual dis-
ciplinary virtue of the history of science, combining as it does
the genetic concepts of history with the exactness and the
severe accuracy of the methodology and procedure of the na-
tural sciences.

116 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Again, the study of the history of science from the point of
view of historical interpretation adds one more reason for be-
lieving in its fundamental significance, namely, its relation to
intellectual history and the psychological interpretation of his-
tory in general, a field opened by Draper and which has since
been cultivated by a number of progressive historians led by
Professor James Harvey Robinson.*? It has generally been
recognized that the history of science forms a most vital phase
of intellectual history, but this conception is still further
strengthened by the newer view, so effectively expounded by
Professor Veblen, especially in his “‘ Instinct of Workmanship,”
and his “ Place of Science in Modern Civilization,” concerning
the intimate connection which exlsts between‘the various stages
of intellectual development and the changing state of the indus-
trial arts, which are, in turn, dependent upon scientific ad-
vances. It would seem, then, that the history of science provides
the most fundamental and illuminating background for the
study of the history of civilization, compared with which the
history of states and political intrigues dwindles to insignificant
proportions. It may be, and indeed often is, objected that while
science may have created modern civilization, in doing so it
brought into being a Frankenstein monster which is rapidly
getting out of human control and whose ravages science can do
nothing to mitigate. The historian would be the last to deny
the serious social and economic problems produced by modern
industrialism, but he will probably insist that science alone can
point the way out. In support of this view might be cited the
achievements of sanitary and medical science, not only in the
field of physical disease, but also in its applicatlon to social
problems and industrial efficiency, and to the apparent progress
now being made in the direction of at last securing a rational
system of ethics based on sound psychology. This view that
science and technology must be the chief agencies that man
can make use of in solving the problems of modern industrial
society was forcibly stated by the founder of modern Kultur-
geschichte, Kar] Lamprecht, in his address to the general meet-
ing of the Association of German Engineers at Leipzig in 1913
on “The Technics and Culture of the Present Day.” After
pointing out the general relation between the development of
culture and technology he expressed his belief that “it is in the
development of technics and modern industry themselves that

10 The writer has attempted to indicate the progress made in this field

in an article on “Psychology and History,” published in the American
Journal of Psychology, October, 1919.

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 117

we must look for an expedient for removing the moral and
social evils which have been called forth through a brilliant
material progress. No superficial suppression of these evils,
no administration of charity, no theories, no political revolu-
tion can have any lasting effect in attaining this end, but only
the moral self-purification of industrial development in itself,
and that change to idealism, which must be accomplished in
and from the further development particularly of technics.”

2. GENERAL NEGLECT OF THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE BY
HISTORIANS

Aside from a feeling of gratitude and satisfaction over
being able to have at one of our Association conferences such a
group of eminent scientists, the fact which strikes a historian
most vividly with respect to this conference is that at the first
session of the American Historical Association on the history
of science, three out of four of the formal papers were pre-
sented by natural scientists. The situation is all the more sig-
nificant because this disparity was not due to any determination
to go outside the ranks of historians for speakers, but rather
was caused by the somewhat embarrassing fact that it reflects
very accurately the distribution of the current activity in the
history of science, for probably more than seventy-five per cent..
of such interest is found among natural scientists. This state
of affairs seems particularly strange in view of the fact that
there have long been historians and other social scientists who
have emphasized the dominating part played by science in the
evolution of civilization. Roger Bacon’s striking prophecy of
the effect of applied science is too well known to describe in
detail. Away back in the latter part of the fourteenth century
Ibn Khaldun, an Arab savant, definitely rationalized and iso-
lated the history of civilization and emphasized the part played
by Arab natural science in the development of civilization.
Francis Bacon stressed the importance of intellectual history
and had great hopes that general advancement and betterment
might be achieved through the application of natural science.
Turgot, in his Sorbonne lecture of 1750, showed how progress
was dependent upon the cumulative social, economic and scien-
tific advances contributed by each generation and stressed in
that way the continuity of history. Condorcet set forth what,
at the close of the eighteenth century, looked like an extremely
fantastic, but in the light of the last century a rather conserva-
tive, estimate of the general progress that might be expected
from the application of natural science to human activities.

118 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Henri de Saint-Simon and his disciples, drawn largely from
students at the Hole Polytechnique, not only agreed in general
with Condorcet, but also advanced a step further by compre-
hending the vital importance of applied science and in advoca-
ting the formation of a social system controlled and directed in
its material interests by scientists and engineers. Auguste
Comte sketched a philosophy of history in which progress was
held to consist in the gradual but sure triumph of the scientific
method and procedure over the theological and metaphysical,
planned a social system dominated by applied scientists and
sociologists and attempted to secure the establishment of a
chair in the history of science at the College de France. That
interesting mid-century socialist, Wilhelm Weitling, would have
handed over the complete control of society to a triumvirate
made up of the most eminent living physician, mechanical engi-
neer and physicist. Space forbids more than a mere mention
of the well-known favorable attitude towards science and its
history taken by Buckle, Draper, Andrew D. White, Henry
Adams, Thornstein Veblen and Lester F. Ward. Among more
recent historians there are a number who have emphasized the
significance of science in the evolution of civilization. Some
leaders in this movement have been Lamprecht and his asso-
ciates, Seignobos, F. S. Marvin, and Professors Burr, Robin-
son, Shotwell, Shepherd, and Teggart in this country. There
have been technical historians of science varying all the way
€rom the ecstatic Karl Snyder to the encyclopedic Duhem and
‘the erudite and cautious, if enthusiastic, Sarton, who have
~urged the importance of science and the significance of its
‘history. The work of Mach, Cantor, Ostwald and Danneman
in Germany; of Mieli and Rignano in Italy; of Duhem, Berthe-
lot, Milhaud, Tannery, Picard and Poincaré in France; of Sar-
ton in Belgium; of Merz, Pearson, Shipley, Lones, Singer,
Osler, Ross, Thomson and Tozer in England; and of Sedgwick,
Tyler, Cajori, Locy, Crew, Karpinski, Henderson, Baldwin,
Libby, Hall and Garrison in this country is at least representa-
tive of the valuable contributions made to the field of the his-
tory of science by natural scientists. In spite of all this, how-
ever, one can point to but few European historians, taking the
title in its conventional meaning, who have devoted themselves
professionally to the history of science, and it seems that Pro-
fessor Lynn Thorndike is the only one in this country who has
cultivated the subject systematically, though one should not
forget the valuable monograph of Miss Ornstein on the rise of
the European scientific societies. The lure of the episodical,

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 119

the dramatic, the biographical and the political history, pro-
duced by the inertia in the heritage from older historical inter-
ests and concepts and the development of nationalism in the
19th century, has proved too strong for the majority of his-
torians and has seduced them into a grotesque concern with the
irrelevant and into a sad ignoring of the vital elements in his-
torical development. It has not been sufficiently emphasized
that there are two chief types of superficiality and inaccuracy
in history, the first being that which leads to statements made
without a sufficiently thorough and dispassionate study of the
sources of information, and the second and equally serious
variety being that which leads to a failure to concentrate his-
torical investigation upon those topics which seem likely to
reveal most clearly the nature and causes of human progress.**
It is a strange but interesting fact that those who have been
most cautious in avoiding the first type of superficiality have
been most frequently and fatally guilty of the latter.’ It
would seem that the chief cause of this has been the unfor-
tunate tendency to make states, political institutions and polit-
ical figures the chief center of orientation and point of depar-
ture for historical study and exposition. This has led to a
situation in history not widely different from the procedure of
a hydraulic engineer who studied the ice on a river and ignored
the depth and rapidity of the current, or a geologist sent to
make a detailed study of the soil and minerals of a particular
area and who satisfied himself with a report on some conspic-
uous phases of the topography, or who studied a glacier by
noting the débris which had accumulated on its surface and
ignored the vast mass of ice moving irresistibly beneath.
One is especially reminded of the significance of the history
of science, as well as of its relative neglect, when he reflects
upon the vast amount of scholastic energy spent upon that
chronological succession of guesses as to the nature of reality
which is collectively known as the history of philosophy, and
also upon the history of the various methods and avenues in
which man has gone wrong in attempting to get control over
nature and to adapt it to his use, in particular, the vast num-
ber of pretentious volumes devoted to the history of religion,
the chief mechanism for hoping to attain a supernatural con-
trol over the forces of nature—the contrast of which with the

11 See James Harvey Robinson, “ The New History,” Chapters I., IV.,
V., VIII.; and Albion W. Small, Publications of the American Economic
Association, Third Series, Vol. V., No. 2, p. 178.

12 See Karl Lamprecht, “ What is History?” Chapter I.

120 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

scientific approach has been most effectively drawn by the late
Andrew Dickson White.'*

3. PRESENT STATUS OF THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE IN AMERICAN
EDUCATION

The status of the teaching of the history of science in the
United States before university instruction was so seriously
disrupted by the War has been described in a valuable study
made by Mr. Frederick E. Brasch in a paper entitled ‘“‘ The
Teaching of the History of Science: Its Status in our Univer-
sities, Colleges and Technical Schools,” and published in Science
for November 26, 1915.4 He studied 352 out of 598 institu-
tions of this type which existed in the country at that time and
found that 224 had some course on the history of science and
that 128 had none. The first course on the history of science
in America appears to have been one on the history of chem-
istry given by Dr. Theodore W. Richard at Harvard University
for the first time in 1890. At practically the same time’ Pro-
fessors Sedgwick and Cross at the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology began a course on the history of the biological and
physical sciences which has been carried on since 1905 by Pro-
fessors Sedgwick and Tyler. This was the first course in the
general history of science given in this country. Perhaps the
best known course on the general history of science now offered
is that which had been conducted at Harvard, since 1911, by
Professor L. J. Henderson. Mr. Brasch found that in 1915
there were many more courses offered on the history of special
sciences than on the general history of science, the emphasis
being particularly upon the mathematical and physical sciences
at the expense of the biological, but he believed that he detected
a tendency on the part of these institutions of higher learning
to abandon the history of special sciences and to go over to a
general course. Most of the larger universities were found to
offer both general and special courses in the history of science
and an unusual interest in the subject was manifest at the
Carnegie Institute of Technology at Pittsburgh. A gratifying
innovation of a missionary sort was to be seen in the work of
Professor Henderson of Harvard who gave a series of lectures

13 Of course this statement does not imply any reflection upon the
very valuable contribution to intellectual and cultural history made by
students of the history of philosophy and religion, but simply attempts to
make more clear the relative neglect of the history of science.

14 Loc. cit., pp. 746-60.

15 Professor Sedgwick began his lectures in an extra-academic way as
early as 1887.

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 121

on the history of science to some five middle Western colleges
in the spring of 1915. Finally, excellent facilities for detailed
investigation in the history of science have been provided for in
the John Crerar Library at Chicago, the resources of which
were, in part, made public in a bibliography prepared by Dr.
Josephson in 1911 and brought up nearer to date in a supple-
ment of 1916. Nor should one forget the promising periodical
devoted to the history of science—IJsis—edited by Georg Sar-
ton, the publication of which was, unfortunately, disrupted by
the war, or the various publications edited by Professor Cattell,
which have encompassed practically the whole field of science.

While Mr. Brasch’s study thus revealed significant begin-
nings in the history of science in the United States it gave no
evidence of any interest in the subject on the part of the his-
torical guild. It is doubtful, indeed, if at that time there was
any special course on the history of science offered by his-
torians. Probably the closest approximation was the courses
in intellectual history, the history of civilization, and the ex-
pansion of European civilization given by Professors Robinson,
Shotwell and Shepherd at Columbia, the composite course on
the history of civilization offered at Cornell, and certain ad-
vanced senior work on medieval education and intellectual in-
terests given by Professor Haskins at Harvard, with some very
significant literary activity in the subject on the part of Pro-
fessor Thorndike at Western Reserve University and Pro-
fessor Teggart at California. This state of affairs suggests
the question as to whether matters should remain ever thus,
with the historians generally ignoring the subject, and brings
one to the final point in this discussion, namely, a consideration
of the type of cooperation and division of labor between nat-
ural scientists and historians which is desirable in teaching and
writing in the field of the history of science.

4. THE NECESSITY OF COOPERATION BETWEEN HISTORIANS AND
SCIENTISTS IN THE FIELD OF THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE

It would seem that the manner of teaching the history of
science should be determined sharply by the object which it is
desired to obtain. It is obvious that there are four chief re-
sults to be aimed at, each of which calls for a special course;
first, a technical knowledge of the history of a certain special
natural science designed to aid experts in arriving at a better
command of their particular subject; second, a more general
grasp of the development of all the natural sciences which will
make clear the manner in which the progress of the several
natural sciences has been interrelated and cumulative; third,

122 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

an analysis of the history of method which will illustrate the
nature and unique character of the methodology of the natural
sciences and the manner in which this methodology and tech-
nique has evolved; and, fourth, an introduction to the history
of intellectual interests and cultural progress which will indi-
cate the part played by science in the history of civilization and
will reveal scientific progress in its proper perspective in the
general evolution of intellectual interests. It would appear
certain that the first three types of courses should normally be
taught by natural scientists and the last by historians, though
occasionally an alert student of philosophy will be found ad-
mirably qualified to give the courses on the general history of
science and the evolution of the scientific method. But in both
the courses on the history of science and on the history of intel-
lectual interests there should be frank and sympathetic coopera-
tion between scientists and historians. This cooperation, un-
fortunately, has not generally existed in the past. The sci-
entist, at least in this country, has generally despised the his-
torian when the latter has upon very rare occasions entered
the boundaries of natural science and the historian has gen-
erally escaped this contempt by ignoring the history of science
altogether. This mutual lack of respect and interest and the
resulting failure to cooperate has led to a serious loss to both
scientists and historians. Scientists, particularly in this coun-
try, have exhibited an extremely naive and uncritical attitude
in the matter of handling the historical sources dealing with
their subject, works of all varieties of age, accuracy and bias
often being used in an indiscriminate manner provided they
furnish direct statements of alleged fact, and often some of the
most valuable sources of information have been ignored alto-
gether. There also has frequently been displayed a painful
lack of power in orderly and attractive narration, which would
scarcely be found even in a doctoral dissertation in history.*®
The admitted critical and literary superiority of European his-
torians of science to the American may in part be due to the
closer cooperation between them and their colleagues in the
faculties of letters and in the field of history. Further, the
natural scientist has often seemed to assume that the progress
of science has been solely a result of individual investigation,
experimentation and discovery, while as a matter of fact the
historian well knows that it has been quite as much the product

16 For a candid recognition of these ‘defects in works on the history of
science written by natural scientists, one should consult the article on
“ The History of Science ” by Dr. Louis C. Karpinski in School and Society,
December 21, 1918. This is written by a natural scientist well grounded
in historical methodology.

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 123

of circumstances in the general historical environment which
have encouraged and made possible scientific endeavor and
achievement. In other words, while the progressive historian
will freely admit that science has done much to determine the
course of historical events he must insist that culture has been
quite as effective in conditioning the nature and rate of prog-
ress in the natural sciences.

From the historical viewpoint the rather austere scorn of the
natural scientist for the historian has sometimes led the latter
to risk some excursion in the field of science without having
checked up his work by consultation with a scientific expert,
but more often it has simply been effective in keeping the his-
torian out of the field, and incidentally in preventing college
students of history from having an adequate opportunity to
become acquainted with what should constitute, perhaps, the
most vital phase of history. Of course it is not meant that his-
torians have always recognized the significance of the history
of science and have clamored in crowds for permission to enter
the field, being deterred only by the lack of encouragement from
scientists. The general body of historians have certainly been
as naive in ignoring science as have scientists in sifting his-
torical sources. What is asserted is that the few historians
who have shown an interest in the history of science have not
generally met with a warmly sympathetic welcome from sci-
entists. The scientists should recognize that until the history
of science is espoused by a large number of historians it can
not have its deserved recognition in the academic world and
they should cherish, encourage and enlighten the few historians
who evince an interest in science with as great care and enthu-
siasm as a biologist would nurse along the rarest and most
interesting sport or mutation which might appear in the evo-
lution of organic life. The growth of mutual respect and the
stimulation of cooperation between historians and scientists
cannot but be productive of the greatest gain to both. The
scientists can receive aid in sifting their sources and arranging
their material, while the historians can secure sure and accu-
rate guidance in the technical phase of the subject. It can
scarcely be doubted, moreover, that the unquestionably greater
objectivity, frankness and candor, and the more earnest search
for truth and vital information which characterizes natural
scientists, as contrasted with historians and social scientists
generally, will have a salutary reaction upon historians. Fur-
ther than a mere cooperation in research and exposition, his-
torians and scientists should arrange for a better guidance of

124 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

their students. Certainly no major student in science should
regard his scientific training as well rounded out without com-
prehending the relation of the history of science to general cul-
tural evolution and the history of intellectual interests and no
student of history can be held to be competent in his subject
without a decent elementary grasp upon the history of science,
for which he may be prepared, if otherwise deficient, by a pre-
liminary course in general science, which should always include
some personal contact with and observation of, the exact and
painstaking methods of the scientist in laboratory work. It
may also be safely asserted that students of science who hope
later to teach its history or to write on the subject should
during their college course take a thorough course in historical
methodology, both in investigation and exposition.

The progress made by natural scientists in teaching and
writing in the field of the history of science has already been
pointed out and this morning’s conference will be welcomed by
historians as a harbinger of their closer cooperation with alert
students of the newer history. From the historian’s side, also,
certain significant advances have already been made in this
country which to some degree supplants the blank indicated in
Mr. Brasch’s report on the history of science. Professor James
Harvey Robinson in his well-known course on the history of the
intellectual classes of Europe has provided, especially in his
latest syllabus, an excellent prospectus for a synthesis of the
history of science and general intellectual interests, and his
point of view has affected many of the younger teachers of
history and is evident in the text-books of Breasted, Thorndike,
Hayes and Schapiro. Professor Shotwell’s famous course on
the evolution of European civilization centers largely around
the progress of pure and applied science and its reaction upon
civilization, particularly its effect upon economic life and activ-
ities. It is doubtful if any other American historian, with the
possible exception of Professor Robinson, has done as much to
direct the attention of the historian to the significance of the
growth of science in determining the progress of civilization as
Professor Shotwell. Professor William R. Shepherd, in his
original course on the expansion of European civilization, has
for the first time made clear how far the development of Euro-
pean science in modern times has been due to the reaction of
world colonization, exploration and commerce upon European
thought.?7 The salutary influence of Professor Burr’s teaching

17 Professor Shepherd’s original thesis in this matter is to be found

summarized in his articles on “ The Expansion of Europe” in the Political
Science Quarterly for 1919.

THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE 125

and writing in stimulating interest in intellectual history has
long been recognized and has permeated the text-book of Pro-
fessor Hulme on the Renaissance and Reformation, as well as
having led to the production of many scholarly monographs in
the field of intellectual history. While Professor Haskins has
not been usually regarded as a special protagonist of intel-
lectual history no one in Europe or America has done work of
amore scholarly nature in this field, and of late he has offered
a general course on medieval intellectual history. Further,
historians in this country and abroad have at last supplied
works that make possible a fairly complete survey of intel-
lectual history. The writing of Breasted, Rogers and Jastrow
on the Oriental period; of Zeller, Gomperz, Murray, Zimmern,
Fowler, Wissowa and Cumont on the classical era; of Taylor,
Poole, Lea, Harnack, Burr, Rashdall, Pactow, Thorndike, Work-
man and Lecky on the Medieval age; of Brandi, Voigt, Beard,
Emerton and Hulme on the Renaissance and Reformation; of
Shipley on the science of the seventeenth century; of Shepherd
and Abbott on the expansion of Europe; of Fischer, Morley and
Stephen on the thought of the eighteenth century; of Benn,
Merz and others on the last century; and of Dewey, Royce,
Santayana, Faguet, Pearson, Reinach and Dilthey on various
topics in intellectual history are only certain conspicuous illus-
trations of the fertile work done in this field.

There are courses in the history of civilization offered in
American universities in which the development of science has
been or may be introduced with profit to all concerned. A very
significant innovation has been adopted this year at Columbia
University whereby all freshmen are compelled to enter a
course in contemporary civilization containing at least an intro-
duction to the history of science, sufficient to indicate the scien-
tific progress which lies back of modern civilization. It would
seem, however, that, though a fruitful interest in the history
of science may be aroused in this way, it is rather too early
in the college course for the most effective presentation of the
history of civilization. It is probable that the courses in the
history of the special sciences should come in the junior year
and should be followed in the last college year by the courses in
the general history of science and in the history of thought and
culture. There might also be mentioned the fact that a general
course on the history of science is being offered for the first
time this year at Clark College and Clark University under the
direction of Dr. Edmund C. Sanford, president of the college,
this being especially interesting as illustrating how such a

126 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

course may be successfully handled by a student of philosophy
and psychology, when possessed of sufficient erudition and a
progressive viewpoint. But, important as these details may
be, the vital preliminary step is for historians more generally
to realize the significance of the history of science and for the
scientists to descend to a plane of cooperation, and the details
of the division of labor between the two fields and the peda-
gogical problems will be early and easily adjusted. While at
present the scientists show much the greater activity in the
history of science, the strength of the conventional in historical
interests seem to be weakening and it is not absurd to predict
that a generation hence such a book as Merz’s “History of
European Thought in the Nineteenth Century” will be re-
garded as containing more pertinent historical information
than the “‘ Cambridge Modern History” or James Ford Rhodes,
“History of the United States since the Compromise of 1850.”

Bibliographical Note.——There is no satisfactory treatment of the
problem of the history of science and the method of presenting it for
class-room instruction. Valuable suggestions may be obtained from the
following easily accessible articles:

Mann, C. R. The History of Science. Popular Science Monthly, April
1908, pp. 313 ff.

Libby, Walter. The History of Science. Science, November 6, 1914, pp.
670-73. A Function of the History of Science, Educational Review,
October, 1919, pp. 201-6.

Brasch, F. E. The Teaching of the History of Science. Science, Novem-
ber 26, 1915, pp. 746-60.

Sarton, G. The Teaching of the History of Science. ScIENTIFIC
MONTHLY, September, 1918, pp. 193-211.

Karpinski, L. C. The History of Science. School and Society, December
21, 1918, pp. 741-49.

Sarton’s article is especially valuable for its discussion of the requisite
knowledge, equipment and pedagogical procedure in teaching the history
of science, while Karpinski’s is notable for its plea for a more critical
method and more comprehensive research in gathering materials on the
history of science.

The subject is discussed from the historian’s point of view in Marvin,
F. S., “Science and History,” Contemporary Review, March, 1918; Robin-
son, J. H., “The Relation of History to the Newer Sciences of Man,”
Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods, March 16,1911;
and Shotwell, J. T., “ The Interpretation of History,” American Historical
Review, July, 1918. An excellent recent illustration of interrelationship
between the history of science and the history of culture and intellectual
interests is provided in the voluminous work of Edmund von Lippmann,
“‘Entstehung und Ausbreitung der Alchemie,” Berlin, 1919. See also J. H.
Robinson’s syllabus, “ An Outline of the History of the Western European
Mind,” N. ¥,,; 1919:

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 127

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY IN
SOME OF THE SCIENCE OF THE
NATURE PHILOSOPHERS

By JONATHAN WRIGHT, M.D.

asks, when he comes to grasp the magnitude of the
phenomenon of ancient Greece in the evolution of civilization
is: When the Greeks met the Persians and the Egyptians in the
eighth and seventh centuries B.C., was the rise of Greek philos-
ophy its consequence in the sixth century? Herodotus and
Hecatzus relate incidents, which modern archeology has con-
firmed and expanded, that to some seem to indicate at least an
approximation to that conception. The coincidence loses its
effect largely when we consider that these authors really began
the written history of the modern world. In Herodotus and in
the few fragments from other earlier historians we read much
of the contact of the people of the Orient and the Greeks. Such
records and such traditions do doubtless represent events dat-
ing back to the Persian conquests of the Great Cyrus, but we
have to depend on another kind of evidence. Ancient papyri,
it is true, have been preserved to us which date a thousand
years and more beyond that period, but the difficulty in trans-
lating the text has only been one of the difficulties we find in
ascertaining their meaning and correlation of information thus
received, often incoherent in its parts, has not been satisfac-
torily attained even with the help modern archeology has given
us. But from the days of Herodotus we get a fairly coherent
story reaching to our own times.

This very coherency and the more or less unbroken con-
tinuity in our older historical conceptions have conferred a per-
haps exaggerated importance on the first meeting of the Greek
men of brass in the Delta of the Nile which Herodotus relates
(II. 152). From those literary sources now open to us, even
isolated as they are in the gloom of an antiquity which Herod-
otus has not dispelled, we get enough to convince us of the
activity in the intercourse between the shores and islands of
the Mediterranean and the oriental hinterlands. The Persian,
the Egyptian, the Assyrian surges of political power which
swept, at least in their influence on the types of civilization,
across the Avgean to its islands and the headlands of Europe,
we may well believe lighted foci of culture which were not ex-
tinguished when the brown people surged back again, but we
can no longer avoid the conviction that throughout this vast

Late one of the first questions the student of history

12

[@ 6)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

period the general underlying culture of the whole Mediter-
ranean basin, extended far inland on the continents of Asia and
Africa, was more homogeneous than certain schools of his-
torians were once wont to admit. This general principle, at
which we have arrived, has to be kept in view when we study
the vexed question of the intrusion of the northern nations. I
may seek the excuse for avoiding the conclusions at which Ger-
man pre-historians have arrived, on the plea that no evidence
credited to them is liable to be received with favor at a time
when there is still felt the heat of battle which has overwhelmed
their countrymen and the German historians themselves, to
whom the major blame has been attached for the prevalence of
that imperial spirit which has brought such unexampled woe
upon this world of ours. The facts elicited can not be ignored
but they are very far from being all attributable to teutonic
research. The deductions from them we have no reason to treat
with the same respect.

Although Ridgeway? leans upon many facts brought to light
by German archeology and is quite evidently influenced to some
extent by its conclusions, although he has never written the
second volume of his “ Early Age of Greece,” it is said because
the first volume published nearly twenty years ago would have
to be rewritten, we may regard as correct the view he enter-
tained at that time that new blood has been always coming into
the Mediterranean basin from the North, trickling down
through the Balkan gorges it is true, but coming in larger
streams from the Black Sea region. Upon this latter route we
need only fix for a moment our attention with the thought that
both a priori assumption and such historical and archeological
evidence as we have points to the probability, if not the cer-
tainty, that at certain periods, from causes by no means clear,
this steady trickling penetration has been supplemented by re-
peated invasions of large bodies of red-haired and blue-eyed
men which, for a few generations, over varying extents of the
Mediterranean area, have submerged if not exterminated the
brown-skinned races. These we call indigenous because back
of their time we know only the men of the caverns and the Ice
Age. Such a preponderating northern blood may have existed
in many parts of the Agean area at the time of the Trojan
war. Its existence may not have been unconnected with that
migratory mass which, we have come to believe, at a period
earlier than that swept through the foothills and mountain
passes of the Himalayas into India. The only remark that re-
mains to be made as to the deductions drawn from the indica-

1 Ridgeway, William, “The Early Age of Greece,” Vol. 1, Cambridge
University Press, 1901.

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 129

tions of these ancient currents of migration is that they have
ignored not only the difference between biological and social
heredity, but the difference between that part of biological
heredity which tells for the persistence of the physical charac-
ters of a race and that part which exhibits its mental and moral
characteristics. Blue eyes and red hair and skull configurations
and stature may indeed die out under the change of environ-
ment from the Danube to the Ganges, but until we have better
reasons for thinking the contrary, we may refuse to think that
necessarily means the death of these invisible and imponderable
psychological traits of race which influenced the later course of
Greek civilization.

It is not necessary for our purposes to expand these consid-
erations as to the more or less doubtful conclusions, at which
history and archeology have arrived in our days, of the relation
of the earliest Greeks to neighboring peoples. The only essen-
tial thing to keep in mind is the extreme probability that, how-
ever much more forcible the impact of the Persian empire upon
the Greeks was than the oriental influence which had existed
before or after the time of Cyrus and his immediate successors,
there were further back than history reaches constantly open
channels of commerce and of thought along which ideas may
have travelled between east and west. Many years ago a facile
Italian writer, De Amicis I think, declared that at Constanti-
nople over the bridge across the Golden Horn ten thousand
people crossed daily, but an idea only once in ten years. To
Mr. Kipling we owe the despairing apothegm, East is East and
West is West; without a better bridge for ideas between them
the future is dark indeed for what Mark Twain called “the
damned human race.” Despite the fact that De Amicis was
thinking, in the complacent way we Westerners of recent cen-
turies are accustomed to fall into, of the flow of ideas towards
rather than from the rising sun, we must give this train of
thought the weight, in a discussion of our own topic, that is
its due.

Now occidentalism may not mix well when poured into
orientalism, but we need not be too sure that orientalism can
not be any more readily poured into occidentalism. Pharma-
cology teaches us that liquids in manipulation act that way
sometimes. To be conscious that Christian cults, animated by
all that Western energy and presumptuous vanity can put be-
hind them, do not hold their own even with Mohammedanism,
when the missionaries withhold their Christmas sugar plums,
is a way of realizing the truth of this admixture process. It
still reminds us of the old doctrine that culture has always

VOL. <I.—9.

130 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

traveled with the sun, that orientalism is constantly infiltrating
the boasted civilizations of the West. This view does not lend
itself very easily to scientific analysis, because it is one which
involves so many imponderables. At any rate this rather vague
feeling out of the evidence will serve to remind us that perhaps
the so-called Aryans did not carry with them a current of
Kultur into the heart of the East but doubtless, as has always
been their habit, left a trail of blood where they passed, as of
late with the Bible in their hands.

As I understand it archeological and philological research
has demolished the view that the Susrutas are the origin of
some passages of the Hippocratic books. Certainly no one on
making the comparison can fail to see that one is surely the
source of the other. Native Hindu scholarship vigorously in-
sists on the priority of the culture beyond the Hindu Kush, and
Hoernle? is not by any means entirely convinced to the contrary
in a general way, but fails to lend any sympathetic support to
the antiquated view that Hippocrates got much of his doctrine
from the Ayur Veda of Susruta. We are inclined to flatter our-
selves with the belief that the physicians in the train of Alex-
ander carried Hippocrates to “Susruta.” This may well be so
and still we can not dispel the strong impression that the roots
of Greek Nature Philosophy were deep in oriental soil and irri-
gated by oriental thought. For the present we may however
safely lay the flattering unction to our souls, unmistakable as
this seems to be, that their chief efflorescence began in an atmos-
phere of civilization created by the Greeks of the Golden Age.

There are one or two considerations still to be taken into ac-
count, in a study of the antecedent cosmic relationship of the
rise of the Greek nature philosophy, to which I have not alluded.
One has to do with Space and one with Time. One is a geo-
graphical consideration and the other a chronological one. It
has been pointed out that if you follow the space from the 30th
to the 36th parallels of north latitude round a globe represent-
ing the earth you will find in a belt measuring north and south
some 350 miles the deltas of the Nile (32°), the Euphrates
(36°), the Yangtse Kian (30°) and the Mississippi (30°). In
prehistoric times there arose mighty civilizations on the alluvial
deposits of these rivers, the wash of the continents of Africa, of
both sides of Asia separated by the dividing lofty peaks of the
Himilayas, and of America. There animal life was easily main-
tained and sheltered by various configurations of land and

2 Hoernle, A. F. Rudolf, “ Studies in Ancient Indian Medicine,” Jour-
nal of the Royal Asiatic Soc. of Great Britain and Ireland, 1906, p. 915;
“ Studies in the Medicine of Ancient India, Pt. 1, Osteology or the Bones
of the Human Body,” Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1907.

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 131

water. The richness of those alluvial deposits, extending far
up the valleys of the rivers, nourished the beginnings of the
human race. In the perimeter of the influence of these condi-
tions cultures flourished, which in the course of many thousands
of years have been pushed far beyond this favored strip around
the earth. Miletus, Cos, Colophon and the A¢gean Islands, on
or close to the shores of Asia Minor at the debouchments of the
Asiatic caravan routes and in the shelter of ports suitable for
the commerce of antiquity, are the spots where arose and from
which was dispersed throughout the Greek world the science of
the nature philosophers.

As to time, if we use as beacon lights of the infancy of
science, not yet divorced from religion, the names of Zoroaster
(660 B.c.), Confucius (550 B.c.), Buddha (560 B.c.), Thales
(640 B.c.), Pythagoras (582 B.c.) (and whom could we better
choose to show us when the human mind first began to work
coherently?) the first thing that strikes us is the comparative
simultaneity with which they flare up in the abyss of time from
the Hoangho to the Cyclades. What does it mean? The first
persistence of written records, perhaps? Take a map and you
will find these men dwelt on the 35th degree of north latitude
strung along a stretch of 100° of longitude. We get a glim-
mer of intelligence, it is true, of cosmic law; it is not exclusively
one of geophysics, but a far more mysterious one of psycho-
mental evolution, curiously affiliated with the measurement of
time. To say that this phenomenon is due to the fact that there
was a simultaneity in the preservation of the records of the
thoughts of these men would be as mysterious as to attribute it
to the simultaneity of the birth of modern mental processes
itself. We need to concern ourselves further with geo-physical
processes, but it concerns us to realize that the evolution of
thought is also one of cosmic evolution. It has had its mar-
velous sequences and we know the Ionian philosophy must have
had its antecedents, mysterious as they appear to us.

It was not alone along the mouths of the Euphrates and the
Nile the water receded and discovered beneath it to the gaze of
the philosopher the soil to which it apparently had given birth.
The steaming vapor arose elsewhere into the air and elsewhere
air seemed to have its birth from water. When the water fell
from heaven on the Mesopotamian plains or spread from the
rising Nile over its banks it gave birth to life itself, still a
marvel to men from less favored regions who see it for the first
time springing in the magic of the elements from fruitful
prairies. So we find Thales saying water is the primeval ele-
ment of the universe from which all things else spring, not the
living vegetation alone and the animal life that feeds on it, but

132 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the soil too. We can not yet fathom the chronological mystery,
but we see the basis of the nature philosophy in geophysics at
least. There is every evidence in the most ancient epics that
Thales did not first formulate a theory, so supported by the in-
duction from fact, for ages open to the observations of all delta
dwellers. Water was worshipped in Babylon. It is not difficult
to find this also in the Zend Avesta, perhaps contemporaneous
with the life of Thales and in the Rig Veda vastly older than the
Ionian philosophy. Some time some editor will allow me to
collate that evidence, but there is no space for it here.

Diogenes Laertius* is not only a later but a less capable au-
thority than Aristotle in the discussion of the philosophy of the
Nature philosophers, but there is a passage to be found in his
Lives and Opinions of Ancient Philosophers which serves our
purpose better. After referring (VI.) to the fact that the
Chaldeans study astronomy and the soothsaying of the Magi
and “deliver accounts of the existence and generation of the
gods saying that they are fire and earth and water” and after
referring to their belief in omnipresent phantoms in the air, he
credits Thales with having discovered and invented about all
things then known. Besides “ he asserted water to be the prin-
ciple of all things and that the world had life and was full of
demons.” We get at once in the old philosophers the panthe-
istic belief of primitive man from a record in an age when it
was no longer the exclusive point of view, but we get something
else, the affiliation of Thales with the lore of Babylon and the
orient, despite the fact that Hermippus is quoted as referring
to Thales rather than to Socrates the thanks he gave to Heaven
that he was a Greek and not a barbarian. Thales too dabbled
in the astronomy and astrology of the Magi and is credited with
predicting an eclipse, which Murray® ventures to credit with
the date May 28, 585 B.c. Some said he was a Jew, which is

3 Diogenes Laertius, “ Lives and Opinions of Ancient Philosophers,”
tr. by C. D. Yonge, London. Bohn, 1858.

4T do not wish to clutter up this essay with references and discussions
aside from the pursuit of the end I have in view, the relation of the doc-
trines of the nature philosophers to those of Hippocratic medicine, but I
can not forbear alluding to the now ignored Bayle (Dictionnaire Historique
et Critique, Amsterdam and Leyden, 1730) who has given by far the best
summary of the ideas which in antiquity clustered around the traditions
and the philosophy of Thales, if read in an intelligent way. It gives an
apercu far enough removed from our day to be divorced from many of
the ideas which environ us and to allow us an insight not to be gained
from much more recent historians of Greek thought.

5 Murray, Gilbert, “ Rise of the Greek Epic,” 2d ed., Oxford, Claren-
don Press, 1911.

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 133

doubted,* others that he was a Pheenician, but Windelband,’
accepting the evidence advanced by Zeller, declares he was of a
Greek family which had migrated from Beotia to Asia Minor.
However that may be, we find it is said he accompanied Xerxes’s
army in the capacity of an engineer and he measured the height
of pyramids in Egypt by their shadows on the sand.

Much of this may be idle tales, but they are old ones at any
rate and rested doubtless on a basis of knowledge of his inti-
mate association with the Persian conquerors of the world. The .
answer, then, as to the reality of Persian influence made by the
student of history to whom I alluded at the start must be in the
affirmative, but that oriental influence on the philosophy and
science of the Greeks began with Cyrus’s short-lived though
mighty empire can not for the moment be entertained. The
Medes and Persians were upstart mountain peoples who swept
down on Nineveh and Babylon and their hoary civilization.
The empire of the King of Kings stretched from far beyond the
Indus to the rushing tide of the Hellespont, and we can scarcely
forbear the belief that many an idea, during a generation or
two at least, must have crossed the Golden Horn, going west,
2,500 years before De Amicis wrote his book on Constantinople.
Routes of travel became secure and so smooth messengers
passed over them at fabulous speed. Relays of horses and inns
for horse and man bound distant provinces together. Still,
great empires had flourished for thousands of years in Meso-
potamia and Cyrus built his on the ruins of Nineveh and Baby-
lon and we find Thales in contact with Babylonian ideas and,
if not looking upon water with the reverence of the Magi, re-
garding it from the standpoint of philosophy as the elementary
body of the world, but we may be sure Greece knew of Babylon
before the rise of the Persian power. Anaximander, who seems
to be the first Darwinian on record was the contemporary of
Thales, having supposedly been born after him and to have died
before him, need not detain us except to take note that in his
advocacy of mutational ideas he seems to have antedated Hera-
clitus by a few years, but the latter in his obscure and striking
phrases impressed it more emphatically on subsequent philo-
sophical thought.

We must therefore lay this aside for a moment and seek the
origin of the thought of Anaximenes in accepting the air as the
primordial element. This is rather difficult. Indeed it is not at
all clear how the air came to be regarded as a materialistic con-

6 Burnet, John, “ Early Greek Philosophy,” 2d ed., London, Black,
1908.

7Windelband, W., “History of Ancient Philosophy,” tr. by H. E.
Cushman, 2d ed., New York, Scribners, 1906.

134 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ception before the time of Empedocles, unless some demonstra-
tion of an objective nature was familiar to men before the latter
referred to his klepsydra experiment, but after all that is a
mere landmark for us and is of no significance beyond a sugges-
tion of a state of knowledge which may have been long in exist-
ence. Thales, Anaximander, Anaximenes were all Milesians
and contemporaries, the latter being regarded as the younger.
For anything we know of their lives there is nothing to contra-
dict the assumption that they were acquainted with one another
and their doctrines like their lives must have been contem-
poraneous in a relatively small area inhabited by the Asiatic
Greeks. They must have lived in approximately the same
atmosphere of thought, subjected to the same cosmic influences,
yet we find Thales looking upon the water as the elementary
unit and Anaximenes, disagreeing with the mutational ideas of
his elder, Anaximander, differing from the authority of the
still older Thales by the prominence he gave to air in the part
it played in the universe. We can find no clue to this except in
the supposition that the air in the thought of Anaximenes was
the rationalistic inheritance received from the primitive thought
of the soul. While the invention of the word pneuma is as-
cribed to Herodotus we may look at the doctrines of Anaxf-
menes as introducing into science concepts received from ideas
of men who had long since identified the soul of man with it. I
can not think that the vapor of Thales’s water ascending above
the steaming mud flats of the marshes and vanishing into the
atmosphere could have put that vigor into the belief in the
potency of air which we recognize in the theory of the pneuma
as found in ancient medicine. The water, the moisture in its
influence on vegetation, was an ever-recurring incentive to the
subsequent doctrine of the humoral theories but we must find
support in the primitive ideas of the soul for that stimulus
which we equally recognize in the doctrine of the pneuma. In
a number of essays’ I have developed this affiliation and I need
only allude to it here. I take however this occasion to remark,
as a preliminary to a like development of the history of humoral
ideas, that they owe their expansion and the vigor with which
they flourished not alone to the philosophical ideas of Thales in
regard to water, but quite as much to the magical form they
took in Babylon, which always lends itself so readily to the
propaganda of belief.

Trivial and absurd as some of the statements attributed to
Anaximenes we see in the form of the statement of his philos-

8“ The Soul and the Breath,” New York Medical Journal, July 20,

1918; “ The Blight of Theory on the Acquisition of Anatomical Knowledge
by the Ancient Egyptians,” Ibid., Dec. 7, 1918.

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 135

ophy which has come down to us’ something significant to us in
the opening phrase of a discourse on the air. “ When it is very
attenuated fire arises ... a sort of rarefaction of the air.”
Now we have no explicit data as to his birth and death, but as
has been said, he seems to have had personal converse with
Thales and Anaximander, who both died probably within ten
years of 550 B.c. All of these, we remember, were born at
Miletus, which had commerce on every trade route of the Near
East and had sent out colonies along many of them. It was not
destroyed by the Persians until about 500 B.c. The birth of
Heraclitus at Ephesus is sometimes fixed at 535 B.c. As Anaxi-
menes, like so many of these old men of science whose lives had
to be stretched out to conform with traditions of various events
widely separated in time, was supposed to have been then alive,
his ideas at least must have been familiar to Heraclitus, for it
is said Anaximenes was an instructor of Anaxagoras in 480
B.c. At any rate when Heraclitus had arrived at maturity
doubtless the doctrines of the elder man were well developed,
with their implication of fire as springing from the air, which
differed under the influence of its environment in rarity and
density. Back of this physical conception of fire and heat in its
rationalistic affiliation with the air lay the impetus of Zoro-
astrian magic or religion. Thus it seems more than possible
that the views not only of Thales and Anaximander and Anaxi-
menes but those also of Heraclitus and Parmenides had not
only much in common but a common basis in magic. It seems
to me then that the idea which Lewes,” among the first of the
modern historians of the Greek nature philosophers, had, that
there was some metaphysical doctrine behind them which held
them together, was fully justified. No fact or speculation is
saved from oblivion unless it falls on ground which has been
prepared for its germination into a larger life.

The views of Heraclitus too doubtless found a more ready
acquiescence, because his sayings were mystical and obscure to
such an extent that a thousand years later he even secured the
approbation of Clement of Alexandria in not trusting alone to
observation and experiment. He quotes him as saying that
“eyes and ears are bad witnesses for men, since their souls
lack understanding.” His further cryptic saying resembles
that of Anaximenes so much we may doubt if tradition has not
confused the two. Heraclitus is quoted® as saying “the trans-
formation of fire are first of all, sea; and of the sea one half is

9 Bakewell, Charles M., “Source book in Ancient Philosophy,’ New
York, Scribners, 1909.

10 Lewes, G. H., “ Biographical History of Philosophy,” 2 vols., Apple-
ton, New York, 1857.

136 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

earth, and the other half is lightning flash. All things are ex-
changed for fire and fire for all things, as wares are exchanged
for gold and gold for wares.” We are warned by Burnet® not
to put too much trust in these reports derived from Sextus Em-
piricus and indeed we find Anaximenes quoted, as above, saying
fire is but attenuated air which when it is condensed is ‘‘ wind,
then cloud, then when more condensed water, earth, stones.
. . . All things are generated by a sort of rarefaction and con-
densation of air.”’ The latter saying explains to us more fully
the development Diogenes Apollonius gave at Athens to the air.
We have Diogenes Laertius? for authority that he was the pupil
of Anaximenes and was once at Athens. At any rate whatever
may have been the exact date of the life of Diogenes Apollonius
we arrive at the time or near the time of Hippocrates and we
can perceive the atmosphere into which he was born. We can
better understand the caution he exhibited and even the hos-
tility, akin to disgust, which he exhibited in the Book “On An-
cient Medicine” when he repelled the theories of the Nature
Philosophers. Socrates, some years his elder, in his way joked
about it. Diogenes Laertius relates that Euripides once gave
Socrates a “small work of Heraclitus to read, and asked him
afterwards what he thought of it, and he replied: ‘What I have
understood is good; and so I think what I have not understood
is; only the book requires a Delian diver to get at the meaning
of it.” I am sure some of us would agree that Heraclitus was
not only “the obscure,” but the obfuscated, and thus earned the
sympathetic notice of Clement.

With this exposition of the cosmic analysis of Thales, An-
aximander, Anaximenes and Heraclitus we have of course by
no means exhausted all that could be said of their mental activi-
ties nor have we quite exhausted all that is desirable to say of
the sources accessible to us from which Hippocrates might have
drawn his ideas. Socrates, we see from another acount, was
interested though not much enlightened by what Heraclitus had
to say, but Plato’s works bear indubitable evidence of the in-
fluence upon the author of the theories commonly attributed to
Heraclitus. Between the Master whom his pupil made immor-
tal, between Socrates and Plato in age stood Hippocrates, more
concerned than either of them with the river of life which the
physician never finds the same.

Xenophanes, born 570 B.c. at Colophon, said to have been a
disciple of Anaximander, was driven by the Persian War, which
destroyed Miletus and so many of the other Greek cities of
Asia Minor, from his home and made a beggar, a peripatetic
impecunious scold, always ready for a jibe and a jest, and in-
terested in the earth as the primary element of all things. Some

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 137

one told him that eels lived in hot mud. ‘ Ah well,” he said,
““we will boil them in cold water.’ To him science owes that
healthy skepticism which refuses belief of even the obvious.
He was said"! to be the friend of Hippocrates, though I can not
reconcile that to his having been the pupil of Anaximander, nor
with his having been born in 570 B.c. when Hippocrates was
born in 460 B.c. He is even credited with having written the
Hippocratic treatise ‘““On Ancient Medicine,” which is better
chronologically. We can conjecture that Hippocrates owed to
him the caution with which he looked upon theories exhibited
in other books, usually those regarded as “ genuine,’’ whose
spirit of reserve is in such contrast to that of “The Winds,’
sometimes said to have been written by Diogenes Apollonius,
when the air is the cause of everything. Xenophanes at least
supplies us with the complement of the four elements of the uni-
tarian philosophers. “All things come from earth and all
things end by becoming earth. For we are all sprung from
earth and water.”

Thus far I have only outlined those matters of interest
which are in line with subsequent thought in Hippocratic Medi-
cine, leaving aside other matters scarcely less essential in a
study of the broader aspects of philosophy. To this world of
Nature Philosophy Empedocles is closely allied despite his inti-
mate connection with the history of Hippocratic Medicine for
we are already in the age of Hippocrates when we reach Em-
pedocles, who is supposed in one chronology to have been but
ten years older than the Father of Medicine. The theory of the
special senses developed by Alemaeon and Empedocles, is de-
pendent on atomic doctrine for its very existence, yet they were
certainly both of them older than Democritus with whose name
atoms are usually associated. The physiology of the senses
plays but very little part in the literature of the Hippocratic
Corpus. The special treatise of Theophrastus'’* on the Senses,
and the historical account of Beare™ in modern times are so con-
densed that an account of the matter extracted from them
could be further compressed only at the expense of the elimina-
tion of much detail in which much if not most of the interest
resides. It is quite out of the question to attempt such an expo-
sition here but at any rate from what has preceded we are in a
better position to measure the originality of Empedocles in his

11 Gomperz, Theodor, “ Greek Thinkers,” tr. by Laurie Magnus. New
York, Scribners, 4 vols., 1908-1912.

12“Theophrastus and the Greek Physiological Psychology Before
Aristotle,” tr. by George Malcolm Stratton, London, Allen & Umvine (7),
1917.

13 Beare, John I., “Greek Theories of Elementary Cognition from
Alemzon to Aristotle.” Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1906.

138 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

relation to other implications of Nature Philosophy. It was not
in inventing another unit for a sole element. It was in further
development of the theories plainly antedating his own life
span. It was in the greater precision of the combination of the
elementary constitutents of all things, earth, air, fire and water.
Of his predecessors Alemzon, the Pythagorean, is supposed to
have been his master as Leucippus was thought to have been
the teacher of Democritus, a coeval of Hippocrates (b. 460 B.c.).
In the sense however that these men taught their pupils any-
thing new they were not their masters,—the ideas which had
their birth in ages long past were apparently only carried to
their logical or illogical conclusions by Empedocles and De-
mocritus.

The views of Alemzeon, much less those of Empedocles, espe-
cially as to the senses, could not have been entertained for a
moment without the appreciation of the minute divisibility of
matter. We can even suspect this conception was the chief ad-
vance of the human mind which sapped the foundations of prim-
itive man’s belief in the demonic etiology of disease. What-
ever weight this thought is entitled to, we can easily realize that
a mighty obstacle to the advance of ethics was rolled from his
path when man came to realize he could not escape from evil by
transferring evil to some one else. Primitive and even much
later man often acted on the assumption that if he passed on
his disease to another he must necessarily thereby get rid of
the devil that was gnawing at his own vitals. Bacteriology has
got rid of that difficulty by inheriting from Leucippus or his un-
known forerunners the doctrine of the minute divisibility of
disease devils in the body. What is the good of passing on this
sort of spawn to another? Plenty more must be left behind.
The minute divisibility of matter had more to do with the doc-
trines of Alemzeon and Empedocles and even more to do with
modern bacteriology than they had to do with the physiology of
the Hippocratic books, yet in the doctrines of the pores, a neces-
sary corollary of atomic apperception of sense objects, we find
ample reason for alluding to Leucippus and Democritus in the
history of Hippocratic, Platonic and later physiology and
therapy.

Pythagoras lies a little apart from our interest, not only be-
cause his strange preoccupation with numbers did not have
much influence upon subsequent medical history in the time of
Hippocrates, but I am personally quite unable to understand
either the strength of his propaganda in antiquity or the phe-
nomenon of its origin. We can as a rule run down or rather
ascend the currents of thought to their sources in the emotions
or the comprehensible aberrations of reason of primitive man,

THE ORIGIN OF HIPPOCRATIC THEORY 139

but, though the invention of numbers had its magical affilia-
tions, this was very long indeed before Pythagoras brought
back to Crotona the doctrinal teachings of the orient and very
long after men on the sea coasts were accustomed to figures and
to figure. The mystery which surrounded magnetic iron, or
radium or any other new thing is sure to attract an eager crowd
of the credulous longing to be astounded, and of those eager to
do the astounding, but this sort of mushroom cult produces no
such extended and long persisting attention as the doctrine of
numbers spread by the Pythagorean sect to Plato and through
Plato to the Neo-Platonists and to medieval thought. Pytha-
goras however was the teacher of Alemzon and though the
latter is said? to have stood aloof from the number theory, he
doubtless had from the chief of his sect the idea, subsequently
and to this day pervading all medicine, that health is an equilib-
rium of forces, an idea in consonance with that of harmony as
a general principle which rules cosmic affairs. How far Alc-
mzon anticipated Empedocles in rejecting unitarian ideas of
the elemental constitution of matter and its inevitable influence
on the unitarian conception of the etiology of disease, we may
perceive, if we accept the fragment“ attributed to him. “The
preservation of health is the equipoise of forces, of the wet, dry,
cold, warm, bitter, sweet, etc., the predominance of one alone
produces disease. The activity of one of the opposing prin-
ciples works harmfully. Indeed cases of disease, so far as the
causes are concerned, are to be traced back to the preponderance
of heat or cold, dependent upon too much or too little food, af-
fecting the blood, the brain or the marrow; but diseases also
arise from external causes, from certain waters or regions, or
from fatigue, or famine or the like.” This reminds the student
of Hippocrates at once not of “‘ Ancient Medicine” alone but of
the “ Airs, Waters and Places.” .

We are unable to trace the theory of pores further back than
Alemzon, but wherever the atomic division of matter, especially
in its application to the beginning of physiology of the body of
men and animals, first began to engage the thoughts of men, the
pores for them to enter must have arisen in the speculations of
the human mind. If Leucippus was the teacher of Democritus
who was born in 460 B.c., he must have been rather the contem-
porary than the teacher of Alemzon who was the pupil of Py-
thagoras; teacher of Democritus who was coeval in birth with
Hippocrates he could scarcely otherwise have been. In fact we
know nothing of the birth or birthplace of Leucippus. Accord-
ing to Aristotle he is removed to a date as early at least as the
old age of Pythagoras whose birth is placed about 570 B.c.

14 Diels, Hermann, “ Die Fragmente der Vorsokratiker,” Berlin, 1908.

140 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

These dates are most of them irreconcilable with so much that
is said about the doctrines attributed to the various personages
that we are lost in a maze, but we have good reason to doubt
that the ideas of pores in and on the surface of the animal body
to receive the atoms of Leucippus originated with Alecmzon.
Different sizes and shapes of these, which, of course reminds
Gomperz™ of the theory of his countryman Ehrlich, given off
from the object seen, heard, smelled, tasted and even felt serve
to complete rather than to originate or even elucidate the
thought supplied as a basis of the theory of perceptions.** It
no doubt also opened the way for Empedocles to form later his
teachings of respiration and perspiration through the tissues
and their external covering. It supplied Plato with the thought
of his wonderful scheme of the network of the body. Its affilia-
tion with what histology has revealed to us of the minute struc-
ture of the connective tissues is easily demonstrable and is as
striking an example of how the generalizing power of theory
outruns the knowledge of facts as that of the atomic theory
itself. Theory so remote in time as this was forming a soil in
which future science could find a suitable place for accepting
facts which otherwise would have been lost with myriads of
others less fortunate, which have been exposed and perished in
the immense stretch of time which has since intervened, for the
want of a proper environment.

Having given us the most plausible definition of the etiology
of disease, having advanced and expanded a preexisting atomic
conception of matter, Alemzean, according to the records, was
the first to declare and possibly to demonstrate by the dissection
of animals that the brain is the sensorial center and the origin
of the nerves. I think Burnet* has not sufficient evidence to
show that Hippocrates himself, if we accept Littré’s classifica-
tion of the Hippocratic Corpus, grasped this view at all, though
Plato evidently was influenced by it in placing the higher, the
rationalistic part of the soul there. This teaching of his elder
made no impression on Empedocles and Aristotle totally and
specifically repudiated it.1* Galen established it more firmly,
for this fact did not perish, since it is evident in some of the so-
called spurious books of the Hippocratic Corpus. We recognize
in Alemzon, from the little tradition has left us, a mind com-
mensurate with that of Hippocrates himself. It is impossible
to take up here the physiology and, in the broader use of the
term, the cosmic theories of Empedocles, for I look upon them
as indissolubly connected with Hippocratic medicine itself.

15 Plato, “ Timaeus,” 73.
1¢ Aristotle, “‘ History of Animals.” Lib. II, Cap. 4.

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 141

THE ECONOMIC IMPORTANCE OF THE SCIEN-
TIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT. II

By Dr. EDWARD B. ROSA
CHIEF PHYSICIST, BUREAU OF STANDARDS

COOPERATION BY THE GOVERNMENT IN INDUSTRIAL RESEARCH
AND STANDARDIZATION

The success of industrial research work by the government
has been amply demonstrated. That government laboratories
have done scientific and technical work of the highest quality,
and done it efficiently and acceptably to the public, is generally
admitted by those well qualified to speak. Their efficiency will
not suffer in comparison with that of commercial organiza-
tions. It is doubtful if any commercial organization could
approach the performance of government laboratiories if the
Board of Directors had maintained an inflexible and inade-
quate salary scale for all the more responsible technical and
administrative positions as the government has done.

Scientists and engineers in the service of the government
appreciate the opportunity of carrying on researches and con-
structing public works in the public interest, and of being able
to make investigations and publish results unfettered by com-
mercial considerations. In consideration of these advantages,
many are willing to remain in the government service at less
salary than could be earned elsewhere. Until recently the
government has been able to retain its able men on the average
nearly as well as the colleges and the industries. During the
past few years, however, circumstances in this respect have
changed. While the cost of living has nearly or quite doubled,
and salaries in the industries and in many of the colleges have
been considerably increased, government salaries have in-
creased very little and in the higher grades not at all. The
result is that in many cases men can not support their families,
and are obliged to seek employment (or accept employment
offered or urged upon them) at a living salary. In many
cases men who are making a splendid success and have re-
garded the government service as their career, leave their
positions from necessity and with the greatest reluctance.
Often these positions can not be filled and the work suffers or
ceases altogether. It is believed, however, that this condition

142 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY ©

will not continue indefinitely. A readjustment of the salary
scale must be made if the government is to have the services of
a competent and permanent staff to conduct its scientific and
administrative work. In view of the splendid success achieved
in the past, it does not seem possible that this essential part of
an effective government will be allowed to disintegrate and go
to pieces. Industrial research conducted by the government
with the active cooperation of the industries, and in some cases
of the states, may be made even more important and success-
ful in the future than in the past; for it is needed now more
than ever, and is appreciated as never before.

In order to give a more concrete idea of the practical use-
fulness and economic importance of research and standardiza-
tion, a number of special cases will be cited in the field of the
Bureau of Standards. These cases are chosen partly because
I am especially familiar with the work of this Bureau, and
partly because there appears to be at this time especial need
of the kind of constructive scientific research in the manu-
facturing industries which it is one of the functions of this
Bureau to carry on. Equally striking examples could be cited
in Agriculture or Mines or other lines of government research.

STANDARDIZATION AND RESEARCH IN THE BUILDING INDUSTRIES

For several years recently the building of homes has been
almost suspended, and now there is a scarcity of houses in
many cities. Meantime the cost of building has increased
enormously, due to the greatly increased cost of labor and ma-
terials. In consequence real estate and rents have risen beyond
all precedent. There never was a time when it was so neces-
sary to use building materials intelligently, to reduce waste, to
simplify design and construction, to standardize dimensions
and methods, to make parts interchangeable and fit together
readily, so as to economize labor and reduce costs. If standard
specifications could be prepared and agreed upon in a much
larger number of cases than has yet been done it would greatly
facilitate the work of architects and builders; and if building
methods and the requirements of city building codes could be
thoroughly studied and revised this also would aid in reducing
building costs. It seems probable that hundreds of millions of
dollars could be saved within a few years if a comprehensive
and intelligent study were made of all phases of building,
including fire prevention and the plumbing, heating, light-
ing and hardware equipment of buildings. It would also re-

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 143

duce the cost of repairs and maintenance of these buildings;
partly because deterioration would be slower and failures
would be less frequent, and partly because repairs would be
easier and cheaper to make. The government would do only a
portion of this work of research and standardization, as many
engineering societies, industrial organizations and manufac-
turers would cooperate. But the government should take the
lead, and do an important part of the research work, and noth-
ing which the government could do would be more useful and
constructive, or would be more appreciated by the building in-
dustries and the public. Standardization work of the kind
suggested has great educational value, to architects, to builders,
to manufacturers, to jobbers, to building owners. It would
tend to improve the design and methods of building, and
would simplify many building problems as well as lower the
cost. Is there any good reason why such a constructive pro-
gram of cooperative study should not be undertaken? Can
the people of this country afford to go on without it under
present conditions?

STANDARDIZATION AND TESTING OF AUTOMOBILES

The automobile industry is one of the most important of
our industries, and motor vehicles of all kinds play a most
important part in the business and social life of the people.
Several billions of dollars are expended each year in the pur-
chase and maintenance of motor vehicles. Great improve-
ments have been made in recent years in their design and con-
struction; on the other hand, the quality of materials and
workmanship has in many cases gone backward. Much
progress has been made toward the standardization of the
materials and parts of motor vehicles, and great credit is due
to the automobile industry therefor. But there is great need
for further systematic study and the preparation of specifica-
tions and tests, and the encouragement of testing so that pur-
chasers may know better what they are buying and selling
agents may describe their machines more precisely. The in-
terests at stake are so enormous, and the possibilities of service
to the public are so great, that it seems imperative that more
should be done by the government to assist the industry in its
great task.

GASOLINE AND MANUFACTURED GAS

Gasoline is getting scarcer and dearer every year, and yet
not enough is being done in a systematic way to show how to

144 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

economize in the use of gasoline. A thorough investigation of
carbureters and fuels, and certified tests of the performance of
all makes of automobiles, would be a great value in economiz-
ing in the use of gasoline, and giving the public as much service
as possible for a given expenditure. The Bureau of Mines and
the Bureau of Standards have studied different phases of this
question, but neither has been able to do as much as should
be done. With millions of automobiles in daily use, and gaso-
line constantly rising in price and deteriorating in quality, can
the public afford to have the government fall short in a matter
of so great economic importance, and of serious personal con-
cern to so many?

Manufactured gas is used for cooking and lighting by many
millions of people and by the industries for scores of uses. A
large part of this gas is made by the use of petroleum oil to
enrich blue water gas of low heating value. Recently this gas
oil has become scarcer and dearer, and it threatens to become
still more expensive and perhaps impossible to get in sufficient
quantity. That will necessitate the use of lower grades of oil,
or the production of lower grades of gas, or a change of manu-
facturing equipment at enormous expense. Individual gas
companies can not study so fundamental a question compre-
hensively; individual cities or states can not assume the re-
sponsibility of solving the problem for the entire country. The
proper agency to take up this question is the federal govern-
ment, with the cooperation of the gas companies and the oil
companies and the state and municipal authorities. Such a
comprehensive and constructive study would be of great value
and would have the sympathy and support of all the important
interests. It should include the matter of raw materials,
manufacturing methods, and the relative usefulness of the
various grades of gas that can be produced.

PUBLIC UTILITIES

The government should cooperate actively with gas and
electric and railway and telephone companies in the study of
the many engineering questions involved in rendering good
service to the public. The changed economic conditions of re-
cent years have made it impossible for many public utility com-
panies to meet expenses. In some cases they have gone into
the hands of receivers, in many other cases they escape by
putting up rates. But advancing the rates beyond a certain
point reduces the sales and does not give a proportionate

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 145

benefit. The public in the end must pay all the cost, and the
public is vitally concerned in having efficient and economical
management of these utilities. If the government could help
the companies to help themselves, it would often be better than
an increase in rates. The government could render a service
of immense usefulness and importance by studying the prob-
lems of the public utilities and helping the companies to secure
more efficient operation and a better understanding by the
public of their difficulties and their needs. The utilities are a
special kind of partnership between their owners and the
public, in which the owners agree to furnish the plant and the
service and the public grants a monopoly privilege and agrees
to accept the service rendered and to pay the cost. If the
company’s credit is impaired or it fails altogether the com-
munity, as well as the company, suffers. It is evident, there-
fore, that the public should take a keen and intelligent interest
in public utility problems, and especially in the situation which
has resulted from the rising cost of labor and commodities, for
which the companies are not responsible. The government has
been rendering important service of this kind, enough to demon-
strate its value and to show that cooperation in this work is
practicable. But it could render a service of vastly greater
importance to the utilities and to the public, by an expenditure
say, of one million dollars per year for research and education
on utilitiy problems. That would be only one cent per year
per capita of the country’s population, whereas the value of
the service that would be rendered to the public would possibly
be fifty or a hundred times the cost.

STANDARDIZATION OF ELECTRICAL BATTERIES

One of the most productive lines of research at the Bureau
of Standards recently has been a study of electrical batteries,
primary and secondary. They are used in great numbers for
starting and lighting automobiles, for tractors and other elec-
tric vehicles, for electrical power stations, for telephone ex-
changes, railway signals, door bells, flashlights and a hundred
other purposes. No adequate specifications or methods of test
had ever been generally agreed upon when the Bureau took up
the work. They were sold without guarantee or adequate
statement of performance, and the purchaser had no way of
ascertaining just what he was getting. The manufacturers
have cooperated cordially and intelligently in the study that
has been in progress, and in time it is expected that a complete

VOL. XI.—10.

146 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

set of specifications and methods of tests will be developed. In

‘the meantime the manufacturers have derived important bene-
fit from the investigation and the public is getting a better
product. Possibly a hundred million dollars’ worth of these
batteries are made and sold each year, and if this work could
be carried on more adequately and as thoroughly in all lines
as it has already been in some lines, it seems a safe statement
to make that the public would be benefited not less than five
per cent on the entire product. This would amount to five
million dollars per year, which is several times the cost of all
the work of the Bureau of Standards, and more than a hun-
dred times what the battery work would cost. This kind of
research and educational work is like seed that falls on good
ground and springs up and bears fruit, some thirty, some sixty
and some a hundred fold.

TESTING OF GOVERNMENT SUPPLIES

For many years electric lamps purchased by the govern-
ment have been systematically inspected at the factory and
samples selected for life test in the laboratory. The informa-
tion so obtained is utilized in the preparation and periodical
revision of standard specifications which are used in the pur-
chase and testing of lamps. Formerly lamps were bought by
each department or government establishment separately,
without specifications or tests. The prices were relatively high
and the quality of the lamps often uncertain or poor. Electric
lamps are made by highly specialized technical processes. It
is very easy to make lamps that will give light, but difficult to
make lamps of high quality. Since government purchases of
lamps have been consolidated into large contracts and have
been tested according to proper specifications, the prices have
been the lowest and the quality of the lamps the highest that
the market affords. The ordering of lamps by each depart-
ment is now a simple routine operation, whereas formerly the
separate purchasing of lamps involved dealing with agents of
various manufacturers and guessing as to who offered the best
values, taking into account prices and such information as was
available as to quality. The systematic testing of lamps by the
government not only protects the government in its purchases,
but it protects the public in large measure, for the testing tends
to keep up the quality of the entire product, and so benefits the
public. The value of this work, which puts the purchase of
lamps by the government on a business basis, and protects the

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 147

manufacturer of a high-grade product as well as the user, is
many times the cost of the work. The influence of the govern-
ment, instead of being hurtful as it formerly was, is thus stimu-
lating and helpful to the industry, tending to raise the quality
of the product and to improve business methods.

The testing of paper for the government is another example
of constructive work which puts the government’s purchases
on a business basis and tends to help the industry instead of
degrade it. Formerly the government bought paper in great
quantities on incomplete specifications with inadequate tests.
Manufacturers knew that they could supply something differ-
ent from what was specified, and one who was willing to do so
had the advantage over one who supplied what was called for.
This was an intolerable situation which was corrected when
the specifications were made adequate and tests were complete
and systematic.

The value of such work is incomparably greater than its
cost, and it would be well if all government purchases were as
intelligently and systematically handled as lamps and paper
and certain other products now are. It is proposed to estab-
lish a central purchasing bureau and to have supplies pur-
chased and delivered in wholesale quantities and tested as to
quality, instead of ordering small lots separately that can not
be inspected or tested systematically. This would be a long
step forward in putting the business of the government on a
business basis.

TEXTILES

The textile industry is one of the largest and most im-
portant of our industries and one which concerns every man,
woman and child in the country. If textiles were standard-
ized, so that they could be bought and sold on adequate and
intelligent specifications, and consumers as well as wholesale
and retail dealers could know what they are buying and could
get what they pay for, it would be of enormous benefit to ail.
Suppose the brand or name of every textile product was de-
fined in such a way as to convey precise information, and the
same name always meant the same quality. And suppose that
dyes were tested and certified, and one could depend on the
mark as to their permanence, and were told what conditions
they would stand or would not stand. Would it not be worth
hundreds of millions of dollars every year to the public to
have such information? And would it not be a boon to honest
dealers, both wholesale and retail? The only class to be in-

148 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

jured by such a situation would be those who thrive by mis-
representation or by selling inferior goods on their appearance
without representation. It seems almost certain that money
intelligently spent in research and education along the lines
indicated would yield results of very great value, and while it
would involve some expense and trouble, it would be construc-
tive and wealth producing and would raise the standards of
business. It seems certain that it would be as useful as the
grading of lumber, or cattle, or wheat.

THE CHEMICAL INDUSTRIES

Rubber, leather, paints and the chemical industries gen-
erally, include a vast number of products which should be
standardized and described in intelligent specifications. In
many cases the product can be materially improved with little
or no expense, if available information is utilized. Often it is
the difficulty in securing information and not reluctance to use
it that explains the poor quality. There are great numbers of
small manufacturers who would avail themselves if they could
of information to improve their product, but who can not
afford to engage in expensive research to get the information.
The government could supply thousands of small manufactur-
ers with information on hundreds of subjects if an adequate
staff were made available to do the work, and this would be
of direct benefit to the public which pays the cost. This is
cooperative work of the most practical sort, and it has been
done already in enough cases to demonstrate how productive
of good results it is.

SCIENTIFIC INSTRUMENTS

The manufacturing of scientific instruments has recently
come to be an important industry in this country. This is
partly owing to the greater use than formerly of scientific
instruments in the industries, and partly to the war which has
largely reduced the importation of scientific apparatus from
abroad. An increased protective tariff is proposed to en-
courage and protect American manufacturers of such appa-
ratus, but if there are no standards of excellence set up and no
adequate specifications or guarantees, the purchaser will often
be uncertain of what he is getting when he buys such appa-
ratus. The government would do well to cooperate actively
with the manufacturers and with scientific and engineering
societies in standardizing and describing scientific apparatus,

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 149

so that the manufacturer will know better the properties and
capabilities of his own output of apparatus, and the purchaser
will know how to select apparatus and whether he gets what
he orders. In other words, scientific apparatus should be scien-
tifically described and intelligently used, and the government
could render an invaluable service in aiding to bring this about.
In passing, it may be remarked that the manufacturers of this
apparatus will do their part in such work. They are calling
for greater service from the Bureau of Standards in instru-
ment testing than it is able to render because of lack of men
to do the work.

SAFETY RESEARCH AND THE PREPARATION OF SAFETY CODES

One of the most valuable opportunities for cooperative
work by the government is in safety research and education;
that is to say, in studying methods of reducing accidents in
the industies and in everyday life, in formulating sets of
safety rules or codes, and in assisting the state industrial com-
missions in adopting them and manufacturers in complying
with them. More than 3,000,000 industrial accidents occur
every year, of which 25,000 are fatal. Many millions of dol-
lars are expended annually by employers for accident com-
pensation, and many millions more are lost by injured em-
ployees in wages not compensated. Nearly every state has an
accident commission which supervises the collection of com-
pensation for accidents, but many of them do very little to
reduce accidents. A few states have provided their commis-
sions with generous sums to enable them to prepare safety
rules and put them into effect, and valuable results have been
secured by such efforts. Recently a comprehensive program
of safety work has been prepared in which many agencies will
cooperate. This work includes the preparation of nearly a
hundred different safety codes, covering the hazards of manu-
facturing in many different industries, transportation, mining,
and the use of electricity, gas, machinery, and explosives by
the general public. These safety codes are more than mere
sets of safety rules, often amounting to a standardization of
engineering practise in many aspects of an industry, and being
of great value in promoting efficiency and good practise as
well as safety. They are prepared by the active cooperation
of all the interests concerned, including engineering societies,
industrial and insurance associations, state accident boards,
manufacturers of machinery and appliances, and the federal

150 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

government. The work of preparing the codes involves study
and discussion, a comparison of experience and a considera-
tion of the best operating methods. Efficiency and good
service are considered as prominently as safety. Some of the
more important examples of these codes are the Steam Boiler
Code of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers, the
Electrical Fire Code of the National Fire Protection Associa-
tion, the National Electrical Safety Code of the Bureau of
Standards. A national elevator code, codes for steel mills,
blast furnaces, foundries, machine shops, textile mills, saw
mills, and dozens of other industrial establishments are being
prepared or are under consideration. The government is ren-
dering a valuable service in this work, but the work suffers for
lack of funds. The industries, the engineering societies, and
the state commissions are doing their share of the work. The
government’s share is important and should be well done.
The cost of the work is trifling in comparison with its value,
and it does not seem possible that this work will be allowed
to lag or cease for want of funds if the general public could
but understand its immense importance and usefulness. Aside
from questions of humanity and the economic value of human
life, the losses in wages and the damages paid in compensation
amount to so many millions annually that the small amounts
required for the government’s share of the work are signifi-
cant in comparison. Probably no work of the government is
more useful or more productive in proportion to its cost, and
none is more needed by the country at large. The states and
the industries are waiting to put these safety codes into effect,
and the great advantage of national uniformity will result if
they are prepared so well that they can come into general use.
The work should be strengthened and enlarged at an early day,
as a measure of efficiency and economy as well as of humanity
and good government.
(To be concluded)

A MUNICIPAL UNIVERSITY 151

THE ROLE OF INVESTIGATION IN THE
MAKING OF A MUNICIPAL UNIVERSITY

By Professor E. L. TALBERT
UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI

S investigation of the order of genuine graduate work appro-
if priate in a municipal university? If so, what are its ob-
stacles and its opportunities? Since no American institution
of higher education supported mainly by municipal taxation
has yet succeeded in building up graduate departments of first
rank, these questions must be answered in part by recourse to
history, theory, and prophecy.

First traditional practises and beliefs, then realization of
their inadequacy, followed by critical reflection—this is a re-
curring sequence which the history of thought records. Cus-
tom precedes analytical inquiry. The background of the lead-
ers of the Greek Enlightenment was a tropical growth of
conventional opinions about nature and man. Inconsistencies
and conflicts of belief were the source materials of the Sophists
and their successors. Plato in particular owes his place in
the history of reason to his sustained, daring, and passionate
quest for intellectual synthesis. Plato and Aristotle were ex-
ponents of the critical and constructive spirit of the higher
learning. In turn their teaching became a tradition of the
schools.

In America the colleges were founded largely to develop
moral attitudes, to perpetuate doctrines, and to advance the
corporate interests of religion. That the New England college
was a splendid contribution is a position needing no defense.
Its intense conviction of the importance of individual and
intimate experience with realities is a permanent element in
the equipment of the scholar, although the introspective tone
of its theology was not congenial with the realism of experi-
mental science. Its realities were spiritual, and the issue of
its philosophic temper, broadened and deepened, was not science
but speculative idealism perhaps best represented by the late
Professor Josiah Royce. So intense in the early days was sub-
jective belief that patience with objective evidences was difficult
to attain; the opposition to Agassiz and the long fight in Har-
vard College to establish the teaching of physics and chemistry
are indicative.

152 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The colleges were sectarian, teaching a tradition selected
from the rich accumulation of ancient and modern literature.
The emphasis on the classics was excellent in order to bring to
the student a unitary comprehension of the ancient Greek and
Roman world, even if part of the interest in languages was to
support a doctrine of mental gymnastics, and to disparage the
contribution of the pagan peoples. The sectarian bent brought
a principle of narrowness and partiality, opposed to the freedom
and scope of the spirit which seeks unity and objectivity of
judgment.

In the course of events the colleges of arts no longer con-
fined themselves to the training of those who were expected to
carry on traditions, but the weight of the past determined their
direction and function. The curriculum was there as truth, to
be learned and absorbed. Excellent as was its mission, the
American college did not and does not incarnate the idea of a
university.

Neither do the professional schools give outlet for long-
continued brooding, suspended judgment, and critical examina-
tion of the postulates upon which technical instruction is based.
Both colleges of arts and professional schools teach results
primarily. They deal with approved and classic literatures and
philosophies, accepted methods and conclusions of science.
They enlarge perspective, organize traditions, present theories
underlying practises, without reshaping the theories according
to the logic of the facts. They afford little time for digging be-
neath the practise of medicine and law. Assembling under one
management a number of colleges of this character does not
make a university. Geographical contiguity and legal incorpo-
ration are accidents, not essential properties of a university.

Up to this point the considerations which have been ad-
vanced in behalf of the currently accepted distinction between
the respective ideas underlying colleges and universities would
apply to all institutions of higher education, urban or rural,
state or privately endowed. A graduate school, or a consider-
able number of departments dedicated to exploration and syn-
thesis, is a prerequisite to all establishments aspiring to uni-
versity rank.

There are certain conditions in a municipal institution
which bear not so much on the question of theoretical necessity
of investigation in order to round out a university, as on prac-
tical questions of possibility, hindrances, and opportunities.
In this discussion the writer has in mind the municipal univer-
sity with which he is most familiar. The history of the colleges

A MUNICIPAL UNIVERSITY 153

now incorporated as the University of Cincinnati has reflected
the general movement in America—first a college of liberal arts,
then technical and professional schools. It is no secret that in
the college of arts here as in other colleges during the formative
period the teaching and atmosphere were formal and disci-
plinary. There were recitations from texts, marks, and strict
tutelage alternating with student insurrections. Following a
universal trend the college of arts became more liberal in cur-
riculum and government and the professional schools more tech-
nical, as the standards of the professions grew more exacting.

In a municipal institution the demand of the community is
more direct and compelling than in private colleges. They who
pay taxes to maintain a university demand return-values. They
expect their sons to be trained in medicine, engineering, and
law, their daughters to be fitted for teaching. A municipal
university must connect with the insistent needs of the com-
munity. It publishes the virtues of cooperation, of application
of theory to life, of organic relation between school and institu-
tions outside.

Important results of the demand and the principle follow.
Professors in the colleges expend most of their energy in teach-
ing, and as time allows, in keeping up with the literature of
their fields. Incidentally some members of the staff must bear
the burden of supervisory and administrative duties.

Students are hard pressed to assimilate a mass of technical
facts, to gain professional skill, and to “cover the ground” of
an arts course. At a period of their lives when generous en-
thusiasms and powers are waking they are expected to famil-
iarize themselves with a ground which has been traversed by
others. Obedience, not initiative, is required.

Commercial standards are likely to pervade the community,
hard to reconcile with the specifications of detachment, remote
ends, patience, and restraint which are eulogized in all descrip-
tions of the aims of graduate instruction and research.

These consequences, in so far as they relate to the excessive
labor of professors and the pressure on students, are not sub-
stantially unlike those which face all colleges which grow rap-
idly in student population and differentiate into schools and
colleges, in response to popular demand. The third result,
however, the utilitarian temper of the community, although not
peculiar to cities, deserves special attention, since at first glance
it appears to block all advance in the direction of the higher
learning. To the criterion of utility the first reaction of the
scholar (whose lot is teaching in a municipal college and whose

154 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

past training has been in subjects remote from the hurry and
-immediacy of application) is definite and more or less violent,
according to temperament and rearing. Tax payers are de-
scribed in uncomplimentary terms, among them being “ ple-
beian,” “materialistic,” ‘‘hard-headed,” ‘‘and near-sighted.”
After a time a stage of peace and resignation to the daily tasks
of teaching comes on, succeeded by some perception of the citi-
zen’s point of view, and, if the teacher is wise, more attention
to independent study, even if circumstances are unpropitious.
In the University of Cincinnati a graduate school has existed
for some years. The output of reviews, articles, books, and
degrees has been considerable, and in some departments there
now are sufficient laboratory and library facilities, as well as a
sufficient teaching staff, to make graduate work worthy of its
name. The record has been made in spite of the obstacles noted
above, and largely by expenditure of money raised by taxation.
In defense of the attitude of the taxpayers, it must be con-
ceded that the first obligation of a municipal college is the train-
ing of undergraduate students for a worthy calling. This has
been the historical point of departure and can be justified on
grounds of common sense and finance. Now that the printed
word has lost its magical potency even in the eyes of the un-
learned, the book and all learning are judged by tests of experi-
ence. Although the philosopher may inveigh against the test
of future consequences in estimating the complete worth of
anything, he should not lose sight of the fact that the attitude
of the community is consonant with one feature of natural
science, whose method is factual, realistic, hypothetical, and
pragmatic. Concepts of science represent past, present, and
anticipated experience. . Especially the scientific departments,
pure and applied, have little reason for objecting to their own
temper and method when they chance to be used by laymen.
After all, it is not altogether a tragedy for a man to start
work under the stimulus and “control” of anticipated eventual
use. There is no good reason why productivity and invention
may not be furthered by a future reference. There may be
something vigorous and sane in the plain man’s view. Munici-
pal colleges which aim to develop graduate departments may
well stress those phases of advanced work in chemistry, physics,
engineering, pathology, bacteriology, and medicine which have
some prospect of being useful, the results patent, and symbolic
because of their great service. How to combat bacteria, to
build bridges, and to decrease the overhead expenses of city
administration are intrinsically worth while as problems of

A MUNICIPAL UNIVERSITY 155

research, and they have the additional instrumental value of
leading to general interest in other fields of study in which ap-
plications are remote if not impossible. In a municipal insti-
tution, therefore, to appoint a considerable proportion of fel-
lows whose investigations will be likely to lead to results which
will come home to the community is a justifiable policy. First-
rate students will accept fellowships on this basis with more
readiness, since successful study in fields of applied science
leads easily to positions (other than teaching) carrying decent
salaries.

The main consideration, however, is that the approach to a
proper valuation of graduate work in a democracy may well be
the appreciation by the community of the concrete benefits of
research. This stage once reached, there may develop a broader
conception of the mutual relation between “pure” and “ap-
plied” fields of learning, the community learning to value lines
of research which promise no application in our generation.
In fact, “applications” have a two-fold relation; they have
their basis in generalizations of science which have in part
been worked out by thinkers whose intent was merely theoret-
ical, who valued problems for their own sakes. On the other
hand, applications often revise abstract concepts and set new
problems of a theoretical nature. If the community can be
made to see that the continued increase in the conveniences and
the safeguards of life depends upon the maintenance of a de-
partment devoted to following up problems, it will be ready to
support a graduate school.

It may be, too, that a department having the intelligent ap-
proval of the community will rest upon a sounder and more
lasting foundation than one supported by the gifts of wealthy
men, although private bequests are absolutely necessary during
the initial stages. However well founded these assertions may
turn out to be, a moderate claim is this: since graduate schools
should have individuality, one that is backed by the consent
and money of the environing municipality will be a significant
departure from the older type, the privately endowed graduate
school.

A defensible proposition, then, is that the intimate reaction
of the municipality upon the college which appears in a demand
that the college be of direct benefit to citizens at first may re-
semble a stone wall, then prove to be an open door, if the instru-
mental value of higher learning is once demonstrated. A grad-
uate school may be built upon the animus of securing a good
basic life for the community and progressively refine the con-

156 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ception of a good life in terms of remote benefit to future gen-
erations. In this event there may be a generous support of a
relative and functional detachment of the scholar from prac-
tical concerns, a state which now in popular apprehension is
ground for suspicion and reproach.

First to be stressed is the probational role of investigation
in the field of the natural sciences in a graduate school which
early must meet the objection of ordinary citizens that they
will not support a group of dilettanti. There is another almost
untracked territory which should be explored, the field of the
social sciences. Concepts, methods, and data should be exam-
ined and recast. Serious, detailed, and comprehensive studies
of social phenomena operating within restricted localities would
furnish a body of comparative material which is essential in
the formation of sane policy and legislative machinery, munici-
pal and national. In the present state of public nerves this
proposal should be made with fear and trembling. Perhaps
most people, tough or tender minded, would agree that the
absence of well-substantiated principles and methods of orderly
adjustment during crises is nothing short of a national dis-
grace. The unrest, misunderstanding, confusion of issues, and
defense of prejudice existing in this post-war period create a
situation the gravity of which is fast coming to light. We
need thorough statistical investigation and fair interpretation
of local crises; studies of the bases of difference and agreement
between radical, occupational, and other groups; of deficiencies
in institutional organization; of psychological phases of polit-
ical and economic problems; of the present technique of form-
ing public opinion; of desirable directions of municipal growth.
Studies of this character could be summarized and presented
clearly and vividly so that the average person would be able to
understand. A foundation would then be laid for intelligent
judgment and intelligent participation in the concerns of the
city and nation. One of the chief defects of our democracy
would be removed; namely, the lack of reliable machinery for
gathering and disseminating facts and bringing home to the
citizen their significance. Pious belief in the magic of public
opinion is fruitless unless public opinion is well informed and
all relevant aspects of problems are open to inspection.

Consistency with the theory of “application to life” leads a
municipal university to attack the problems of social causation.
It does not follow that now the time is ripe. Until there is a
degree of solid support by all classes in the community, until
there is sufficient confidence in the integrity and sense of justice

A MUNICIPAL UNIVERSITY 157

of the investigators, research in this field conducted by a grad-
uate school of a municipal university will have little promise of
success. If the results of inquiry run counter to the established
order, there will be hostility ; if they support the status quo, crit-
icism will come from other quarters. A university which has
first been established in popular judgment by constructive and
useful contribution in the technical fields, as has been urged,
may tell another tale. These are anticipations, however, and
may suffer the usual fate of prophecy.

Those who simply assert the problematic character of the
venture under present conditions should be distinguished from
those who propound another thesis not so self-evident. The
claim is that any investigation of social interplay is futile and
scientifically absurd, doomed to bankruptcy from the start, be-
cause intelligence is not able to penetrate the darkness of so-
cietal conflicts, much less to devise concepts and methods which
can regulate the conflicting and selfish forces which constitute
society.

The problem obviously is methodological, with psychological
bearings requiring extended discussion. The questions raised
concern the data, methods, and aims of the respective sciences,
especially the validity and function of mind in the development
of institutions, a central inquiry in the socio-psychological field.
These problems are but slightly touched in a few concluding
sentences. History seems not only to suggest the crucial place
of mental processes in community activities, but also to point
out that intellect has scored its greatest success in the study of
the inanimate and the simpler life processes. This fact, and
the corresponding fact that up to this time drift largely has
characterized the sequence of historical events, are not to be
taken as proof positive that intellect applied to society is futile
either in point of penetration or of organization. For plainly
there is some understanding of our friends and associates and
some forecast of events by the statesman. The behavior and
purposes of men are guided in school and occupation by tuition
and law. Intelligence appears to have a measure of leadership
in fields in which it has operated as an approved instrument,
and the moral attested by the great war is that ultimately it is
safer to base national welfare upon widespread knowledge than
on prejudice, custom, and illusion.

But to argue for the possibility of scientific investigation in
the field of social interaction, and to contend for a directive
function of intelligence in this domain is bootless labor, and does
too great honor to the skeptic and the dogmatist. It is a com-

158 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

forting memory that reflection on the “ politics” of a city, its
economics, education, morality, art, and religion was consid-
ered a worthy occupation by a Greek disbeliever in democracy
whose most comprehensive “monograph” is a searching analy-
sis of municipal activities. The assertion that Plato’s conclu-
sions are now discarded in philosophy is no sufficient ground for
refusal to undertake further inquiries in which the consumma-
tion is not intended to be Utopian social mechanism, but work-
ing-hypotheses based on growing experience. It is sound sci-
ence and sound social policy to give every fact, interest, and
group in the community due weight. Perhaps in this decade
agencies other than the graduate school will attempt to analyze
and evaluate the multiple factors of social situations. A grad-
uate school in a municipality may hesitate to embark upon an
uncharted sea. The voyage itself is a necessity and an op-
portunity, if standards more acceptable than those which vindi-
cate tradition are to affect the actual course of social change.

MANILA HEMP 159

ABACA (MANILA HEMP): THE FIBER MO-
NOPOLY OF THE PHILIPPINE
ISLANDS:

By GEORGE STERLING LEE
CORNELL UNIVERSITY

HE variety of plants that yield fibers of greater or less
T value, in various parts of the world, is very large. Liv-
ing conditions in the temperate zones are comparatively little
modified by these plants, but in the tropical countries they are
of enormous importance, being used in countless ways. Thus
in the Philippines, plants yielding fiber used for different pur-
poses by the natives include varieties of ferns, pandans,
grasses, bamboos, sedges, palms, battans, vines, other plants
with leaf or petiole fibers and miscellaneous growths. How-
ever, only two Philippine fibers are of notable commercial im-
portance for rope and bag manufacture—abaca and maguey.
Minor species that have possibilities of future development and
significance in world commerce are the sisal, hennequen, kapok
and ramie. Abaca so dwarfs all the others as a Philippine
product and is so definitely the monopoly of the Islands that
this discussion will deal with it at length, and with the others
only as their relative importance warrants. In any event
there is so much of similarity in the growth and utilization of
these plants that a detailed account of one covers the major
points that apply to all of them.

The abaca plant is closely related to the banana and the
plantain, resembling them in appearance and habits of growth.
The banana plant produces a fiber which lacks the strength of
the abaca, and the abaca produces a banana-like fruit filled
with large black seeds and economically unimportant. The
term Manila hemp usually applied to the abaca fiber is very
misleading. Properly speaking hemp is the bast fiber ex-
tracted from the inner bark of the Cannabis sativa. The so-
called Manila hemp is the structural fiber obtained from the
leaf sheath of the Musa textilis. The term abaca designates
both the plant and the fiber under consideration.

Abaca enjoys the distinction of being strictly a Philippine
product. As many as fourteen varieties are under cultiva-

1The paper is supplemented by one discussing the general regional

geography of the Philippines published in the Bulletin of the Geograph-
ical Society of Philadelphia.

160 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

frown Greenwich 128

Subject

Date.
Explanation.

Scale of Miles
100

su)
uy me
Ne

(
(

°

Copyright, 1903, The McKinley Publishing Co., Philadelphia, Pa

Fig. 1. AREAS OF HEMP PRODUCTION.

tion in the Islands, differing in color and shape of stalk, color
and size of leaves, greater or less tendency to produce suckers,
and in quality, abundance of strength of fiber produced, and in
hardiness. The most desirable qualities are hardiness, rapid
growth, ability to withstand drought, and abundant yield of
fiber, of good quality and easily extracted.’

Abaca is distributed throughout the greater part of the
Philippines, but is most successfully cultivated in a district
comprising roughly the southern two thirds of the Archipelago.
It may be cultivated as high as 3,000 feet above sea level if
varieties adapted to the higher altitudes are used.

2H. J. Edwards, Philippine Farmers’ Bulletin, No. 12, “ Abaca,” 1910.

MANILA HEMP 161i

The adaptability of any particular soil for the production
of the abaca plant depends on the conditions of climate and
exposure of a particular location, but if those are favorable it
does best on alluvial plains subject to the overflow of rivers
and on the moist mellow loams formed by the disintegration of
voleanic rock.* Dry sandy soils, stiff clays or limestone soils
are avoided. Since the bed-rock structure of the Philippines
is mainly composed of basic lavas which have been decomposed
by weathering generally to notable depths, it will be seen that
soil difficulties are not great, and there is ample suitable area
for any reasonable development of the industry.‘

Climate is probably more important than soil in the selec-
tion of lands suitable for abaca plantations. The four climatic
factors are, rainfall, humidity, winds, and temperature. A
heavy and evenly distributed rainfall is most essential unless
irrigation water is available. Relatively high humidity is de-
sirable and this nearly always occurs in regions subject to
heavy rainfall. The abaca plant is especially unsuited for
cultivation in regions swept by heavy winds. Its leaves are
heavy and broad and the plant stiff, so that a wind storm may
do untold damage. So also are the banana plantations in the
West Indies ruined by tropical cyclones. Temperature is rela-
tively unimportant, as it is subject to but slight variations
throughout the year in the Philippines and maintains a mean
of 75° to 80° F., according to altitudes.

Reproduction of the abaca is usually by suckers, though
possible by seed, and the planter may use considerable judg-
ment in selecting varieties high in natural quality and espe-
cially adapted to his own conditions. Certain varieties do
much better in alluvial soil, while others are more fitted to be
planted in loam. The insular agricultural advisers are doing
much to spread the doctrine of suitable seed, but before that
it was the usual practise to call on the aid of a neighboring
successful planter.

In preparing the land, underbrush, weeds, and all trees are
removed and burned except those trees necessary for shade or
wind protection. There is rarely any plowing or other prepa-
ration of the soil. The seeds are planted at regular intervals,
and beans, peas, sweet potatoes, or other vegetables are planted
in alternate rows as these, by their rapid growth, will choke back
the weeds and themselves yield a profitable crop. However,

8 Edwards, op. cit. supra, p. 21.

4J. Russell Smith, “Industrial and Commercial Geography,” New
York, 1913, p. 523.

vo. x1.—1ll.

162 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

it is always recommended where animals and implements are
available that the planter plow and harrow, and he may be
certain of a crop which will yield returns for his extra effort.

Commercial fertilizers have seldom if ever been used in
abaca cultivation. Much of the land is virgin and the soil is
deep, fertile, and filled with decaying organic matter. Only a
very small per cent. of the plant becomes the commercial fiber,
the waste parts being scattered on the ground to conserve fer-
tility. A study of the relative value of the various fertilizers
has not even been made, but from the composition of the plant
and the fiber it is known that potash is by far the most essential
requirement.

About the only cultivation necessary is to loosen the soil
around the plants and keep the weeds cleared out. This last
should be done every two months during the first year. Later
when the abaca shades the ground weeding is less necessary,
and after three or four years once a season will suffice. An4
other valuable treatment after the fourth or fifth year is to dig
out the decayed roots of old stalks and throw in new soil pro-
viding additional plant food.

Shade is desirable, especially where there is any pronounced
dry season. The shade prevents evaporation, keeps back the
weeds, draws up moisture for the plants and protects them
from strong winds. Leguminous trees, with tall trunks, nar-
row leaves, and deep roots are selected where possible.

The abaca has few enemies, and damage from these is neg-
ligible. The larve of two insects attack the plant by boring a
large hole in the trunk and causing the leaves to turn yellow.
Much more destructive are high winds, drought, and the rav-
ages of wild pigs, deer, and carabaos.

The first stalks are ready for harvesting twenty months to
three years after planting, depending on locality and variety.
After the first harvest it is usual to cut the plantation over
every six or eight months. The mature plant consists of a
cluster of ten to thirty stalks all growing from one root. The
stalk is ready for harvest when the large violet flower bracts
fall to the ground.

Harvesting is done by hand with a sharp knife which cuts
the stalk a few inches above the crown of the plant. Care is
necessary in felling the stalks as an unskilled laborer will allow
the stalk to fall to the ground, bringing down other young
shoots whose leaves are tangled with the mature stalk. For
this reason it is desirable to cut the leaf of the stalk before it is
allowed to fall. It is likewise important to cut the stalk on the
slant so that water will not stand on the cut and cause rot.

MANILA HEMP 163

The yield varies greatly, but 1,000 pounds of fiber per acre
is considered a good crop. The average probably falls consid-
erably below this.

The trunk or stalk of abaca ranges from 6 to 18 inches in
diameter and 2 to 8 meters in length. This trunk consists of a
small, central fleshy core from 6 to 10 inches in diameter at
the base, to about 2 inches at the top around which a number of
thick overlapping sheaths are wrapped, each sheath being the
stem of petiole of a leaf. The fiber is extracted from the outer
portions of these sheaths. The process of hand extraction con-
sists of two distinct operations; first, the removal of the ribbon-
like strips of fibrous material from the leaf sheath, and second,
the separation of the individual fibers by pulling these ribbons
under a knife.

The laborer inserts under the bark of one of the leaf stems
a small sharp piece of bone and pulls off a fibrous strip about
2 inches wide and as long as the stalk. One sheath yields 2 to
4 such strips. Each consecutive sheath is thus stripped down
to the central core.

These strips are taken to a shed where the stripping ap-
paratus is kept. This consists of a log set in a horizontal posi-
tion about 4 feet from the ground. On top of this is fastened a
block of smooth hard wood. Over this block is placed a bolo,
having a blade a foot long and a handle 15 inches long. A rat-
tan is atached to the end of the knife handle and connected with
a bamboo spring above. Another rattan passes to a foot treadle.
Thus the spring holds the knife to the block and the treadle
regulates the pressure.

In the process of stripping the operator holds a ribbon of
fiber in his hand with the end wrapped around a block of wood.
He draws it under the knife with a quick steady pull, reverses
the ribbon and repeats the process. A small bunch of wet fiber
is left in his hands. The work is very exhausting and the
laborer can work only part time, and even then is frequently
ruptured by the strain of pulling.

The quality of the fiber depends on the condition of the knife
blade, the pressure exerted and whether or not serrated knives
are used. The latter produce a very poor quality and their use
is being discouraged by manufacturer and consumer. Unless
closely watched the native labor is apt to reduce the pressure
in order to make the pulling easier and this results in poorly
stripped fiber.

Beginning shortly after 1900 progress in Philippine fiber
production fell off to an alarming degree. The reputation of
the industry suffered in the opinion of foreign manufacturers

164 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and dissatisfaction was apparent on all sides. Even more
serious was the manner in which fiber plantations were neg-
lected and the quality of the product correspondingly lowered.
Defects of organization and lack of control of the industry
were felt to be the heart of the difficulty. Before 1914 the grad-
ing and inspection, buying and selling of the fiber were hap-
hazard and inefficient. The grading and inspection had been
in the hands of a large number of export firms. The grades
they established varied continually and tended to increase be-
yond all need. Market quotations were not well understood
and suspicion was aroused in the mind of the seller because of
the difficulty of determining whether his fiber had been hon-
estly graded and he had received a fair price for it. Manu-
facturers and consumers were complaining because the product
was not well graded and the general product poorer. The de-
fects in the method of handing the hemp were set forth in the
following outline:® (1) The lack of fixed and accepted stand-
ard grades; (2) the inadequacy of the prevailing methods of
grading the fiber and of designating the grades; (3) the lack of
any authoritative control over the operation of the grading es-
tablishments; and (4) the more or less general ignorance of
the producers as to their quality of their product.

To remedy these conditions the Philippine Legislature in
1914 passed a law known as Act No. 2380, “ An Act Providing
for the Inspection, Grading, and Baling of Abaca (Manila
Hemp), Maguey (Cantala), Sisal and Other Fibers.” The
grading of the abaca was based on color, tensile strength, and
cleaning. Four classes were created, excellent, good, fair, and
coarse, and each of these was subdivided into a total of twenty-
one grades of definite description. The maguey and sisal were
divided into two classes, first, fiber cleaned by retting, and, sec-
ond, fiber cleaned by machinery or with knives.

The fiber grading law embodies the following provisions:
(1) The establishment of fixed standard grades for each of the
chief commercial fibers exported from the Philippine Islands;
(2) the requirement that every grading establishment shall
grade and prepare for export in accordance with the estab-
lished standard and with the regulations; (3) the institution
of a system of inspection of all graded fiber, and supervision
over all grading and baling operations to enforce compliance
with the regulations, and (4) the institution of an educational
campaign among the producers for the purpose of improving

5M. M. Saleeby, “One Year of the Fiber Grading Law,” Philippine
Agricultural Review, Vol. IX., 1916, p. 18.

MANILA HEMP 165

the methods of production and preliminary preparation of the
fiber.

Under the law 89 grading stations were established and
fiber inspectors assigned to the more important stations. Sta-
tions without inspectors are required to submit their fiber for
inspection on its arrival at Manila or Cebu, the leading ports
for export. The law has been so successful in remedying the
conditions which it was designed to meet that there are now
over 100 stations in operation and a staff of about 50 inspectors.

USES OF ABACA

Abaca is the raw material for a large number of manu-
factured products. Most of the export trade is with American
and English rope factories, and, as they are the dominating
market for the fiber, so are they dependent on the Philippines
for the source of their supply. Increasing amounts of abaca
are being exported to Japan for the manufacture of Lagal hat
braid. The growth of this industry is a factor in, the large
immigration of Japanese to the Philippines. They have set-
tled in Mindanao and Cebu, where the better grades of fiber
are grown, and make it their business to see that the Japanese
market is supplied with the necessary quantity of high-grade
abaca for the manufacture of textiles and braid. The braid is
made up in Japan and sent to the United States chiefly where
it is used for women’s hats. Among a large number of products
whose market is local, abaca is consumed in the production of
slippers, baskets, bags, matting, lace, furniture, and a coarse
cloth.

POSSIBILITIES OF THE ABACA INDUSTRY

New uses and new applications of old uses of abaca and
allied fibers are being constantly proposed. The extent to
which this fiber may be used in the manufacture of paper is
significant in view of the present scarcity. The utilization of
waste abaca for this purpose was first suggested in 1905.
Manufacturers of Manila paper had previously been dependent
upon old rope for their raw product. Large shipments of
waste abaca began moving toward American paper mills and
continued until 1911, when the experiment failed. The reasons
stated were that the waste had a relatively low percentage of
paper pulp, the quality of the waste was too variable, and
freight charges were prohibitive.

Further investigation was made with results stated by the
consular service as follows :°

6 Daily Commerce Reports, May 16, 1912, p. 632.

166 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

In 1912 twelve large paper manufacturers in eastern United States
formed a Philippine corporation to handle and develop the use of abaca
and its by-products in the paper industry. The enterprise rests upon the
demand for certain classes of paper of an especially strong and tough
grade. Experts report that a one inch strip of hemp paper will support
100 lbs. For a number of years there has been a growing demand among
manufacturers for the waste products of hemp and old rope to supply this
grade of paper, especially as the business of making paper bags for
cement, flour, and similar commodities was being extended. The organiza-
tion backing this industry has spent over half a million dollars in ex-
periments but reports as yet no substitute for hemp. The peculiarity of
Manila hemp is that it is practically all fiber in composition, and that no
matter how finely the hemp is divided it is still capable of division as
fiber, while a fiber of cotton, for example, is only a tiny tube, a fiber of
sisal is merely non-fibrous wood, and similar objections are had to other
products.

The result has been the conclusion that, all things considered, the use
of the whole of the original hemp stalk will be the most economical way
out of the situation. By present methods about one third of the ordinary
plant is lost in stripping and about one third of the remainder is not
used for the reason that the fibers are too small and too weak to be of
commercial use. The new plan is to take the entire hemp plant as cut on
the plantation and merely crush, dry and clean it in especially designed
machinery.

Even at the lower price per pound for the whole plant than he re-
ceives per pound for about half of the original plant at the present time,
after expensive handling, the planter will actually receive greater returns
from his product than by present methods. The enterprise is intended
to afford a new and additional supply of raw materials of the sort needed
in the manufacture of special varieties of paper—a supply capable of
almost indefinite extension.

At the same time the corporation described above organized
a company to manufacture paper, cotton and other textile bags
of all descriptions. These new industries have prospered and
opened the way for further development in a new field.

Another proposition often heard is that there be more manu-
facturing of cordage in the Philippines and less dependence on
foreign manufacturers. The consular service reports this plan
as follows :?

One of the largest American mail order houses recently endeavored
to secure the entire output of Philippine rope. The establishment of an
additional factory would not involve the taking of markets away from
existing factories. On the contrary a greater supply of Philippine rope
would aid the existing factories by establishing Manila as a more im-
portant source of supply of cordage. Cebu is believed to be the best site
for development of the cordage industry. It has an abundance of cheap
labor and is the shipping and transshipping point for a large part of the
hemp produced on the island.

7 Daily Commerce Reports, Aug. 16, 1918, p. 634.

MANILA HEMP 167

Government action to secure this benefit is reported in the
following article :*

Government officials identified with the organization of the National
Development Company, authorized a few months ago by the Philippine
legislature, have been gathering data which may lead to the establish-
ment of a rope factory, which will free the Philippine hemp industry from
the mercy of the rope factory interests of the United States. Proposals
for the organization of such an institution here result from the hemp
market depression. Under present conditions hemp men of the Philip-
pines are helpless when rope factories in the States show no disposition
to buy the raw material. The National Development Company, which,
when finally organized will have a capital stock of $25,000,000, 51 per cent.
of which will be government owned, is intended to safeguard Philippine
industries when possible, as well as to foster important industries and to
offer a helping hand to any industry which has a chance of becoming
important, but is not yet developed to the point of being able to walk
alone.

EXPORTS OF ABACA

The accompanying figures show very clearly the growth of
hemp as an export product. It was formerly equal in value to
about two thirds of the total exports of the Philippines, but the
rapidly developed importance of copra and sugar in interna-
tional commerce has reduced this figure to about one half.
The average prices received for hemp have varied from year
to year according to the success of the crop and world market
conditions. Since 1914 the war has so influenced the market
that the figures stand for little. The total weight of the crop

Hemp EXports?®

Weight Value Average Per Cent.

Year Long Tons (Millions) Price Total Exports

SOO eee cael é: sie 70,152 8 $113.99 53.8
1b T0 0h eed a a 90,869 13 146.81 57.8
TOOT eg 5 126,245 16 126.55 65.2
OO Fas stk ates 113,284 19 170.29 67.3
MOUS eae aie ce cls. 139,956 22 157.19 67.9
WOO AAS whore a uke 123,583 22 169.48 71.9
OOD is sis era cisiaves 130,437 22 166.80 65.

MOG ret oje.0 cnstoie 104,078 20 188.44 60.1
DO Gp e2e Sate'e has 5s 117,241 20 167.94 59.5
EUS ee eed Ss ce tots 131,382 17 125.61 50.6
GO OR acre ote otc cisvg 167,953 uy 100.60 48.4
GOS Arti are chats 163,173 16 100.97 40.6
RO Res lo vaho te cane % 148,202 14 97.74 32.4
IROOM aG as ,> els eevs 175,137 22 126.05 40.2
MONS eS cree eicce. 6 119,821 22 176.27 44,2
LIC WIC LN SE 116,386 19 164.93 39.4
MOUS Sericias ss ses 142,010 21 150.27 39.7
WOMB. sx. ctale cles « 137,326 27 194.35 38.1
UST Ct ee 169,435 47 276.26 48.9

8 Transpacific Magazine, Vol. I., p. 64, 1919.
®U. S. Bureau of Customs and Foreign Commerce, “ Commerce of
the Philippine Islands,” 1918, p. 16.

168 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

is the clearest indication of steady growth. The bulk of the
export trade is with the United States, England, Japan, France,
and Switzerland.

MAGUEY AND SISAL

Agave is the family name for a group of important fibrous
plants including maguey, sisal, henequen, and zapupe. The
first two, only, are of economic importance in the Philippines.
While closely related, they have had only a short history in the
Philippines and were introduced there from widely separated
points. Maguey was introduced from tropical America by the
Spaniards, while sisal came from Hawaii in 1905 as a product
for experiment. It has been successful, but not to the same
degree that maguey has.

The henequen member of the agave family is produced in
much larger quantities for world consumption than either
maguey or sisal, constituting about 80 per cent. of the world’s
production of “sisal” fibers as they are known commercially.
Maguey and sisal however have points in their favor which
should make them of increasing importance compared to hene-
quen, which is grown almost exclusively in Mexico. Their
fiber is equally, if not slightly superior to henequen, and their
soil and climatic requirements are slight, for they will flourish
in rocky limestone soil under conditions of long drought. Their
cultivation is simple and inexpensive, not requiring skilled
labor, work animals, or agricultural machinery, and they are
not seriously attacked by pests.

Reproduction and planting is by suckers and not by seed.
The suckers appear (about the second or third year from plant-
ing) around the mother plant, springing up from the rhizomes.
If to be used in starting new plantations the suckers are set out
from two to three yards apart each way, with little preliminary
preparation of the soil beyond clearing it of underbrush and
weeds. The only attention usually given until the third or
fourth year is a periodical weeding out of suckers.

Roth maguey and sisal closely resemble our common century
plant. The fiber is derived from the essential element of the
leaves, but the best and fully developed fiber is found only in
leaves from three to four years old, so it is customary to harvest
only the two outer rows of leaves from each plant, usually 20
to 30 leaves. The leaf is cut off just above the stem and the
spines trimmed to facilitate handling and in this shape they
are ready for extraction of the fiber.

The method of extraction commonly employed is “ retting,”
in which the leaves are slit in strips, tied in bundles, and im-
mersed in salt water (tidewater) for 6 or 8 days so that de-

MANILA HEMP 169

composition takes place sufficiently for the pulp to be scraped
off and the fiber left. Retting is being gradually superseded
by the machinery invented for the extraction of henequen fiber,
especially where the maguey and sisal are grown on a really
commercial scale. The machines are composed of a 54-inch
wheel revolving inside a heavy wooden or metal case. Across
the surface of this wheel are placed blunt brass knives, about
eight inches apart. In front of the wheel is adjusted a concave
block, or brass shoe, against which the leaves are scraped by
the blades of the former.

In 1917 $17,500 was appropriated by the Philippine legis-
lature for the purchase of two Prieto maguey extracting ma-
chines in the United States. These were installed at the Singa-
long experiment station and since that time have given such
satisfaction that Hernandez, the Director of Agriculture, be-
lieves they will’? “greatly increase the maguey industry
throughout the Philippine Islands and put it on a more stable
basis.” Some such machinery has long been needed for the
extraction of abaca. A number have been tried, but have failed
because of low capacity, complexity of construction, and high
cost of operation.

After extraction of the fiber it is washed and carefully dried
to prevent deterioration. When dry the fiber is tied in bundles
four inches in diameter and baled. Subsequent operations are
similar to those described in our discussion of hemp.

The sisal fibers are peculiarly immune to disease, two fun-
gous diseases and one insect pest being the only known sources
of danger, and these are being carefully watched to prevent any
widespread damage. Damage is more likely to occur from
cattle when the plantations are not properly fenced in.

The introduction of sisal fibers to the areas of the Philip-
pines offering suitable conditions will result in the use of lands
otherwise economically unimportant. The establishment of
this industry demands three lines of improvement over the
present methods; (1) the practise of systematic planting and
cultivation, (2) the development of large plantations, or small
ones close together, and (3) the introduction of fiber extracting
machinery which will follow naturally after the second condi-
tion has been fulfilled.

GROWTH OF MAGUEY INDUSTRY

Production of maguey for export commenced in 1904, when
690 long tons were shipped valued at $78,121. Between 1905
and 1915 the quantity exported varied between 2,000 long

10 Philippine Agricultural Review, Vol. XII., 1919, p. 98.

170 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tons, valued at $163,273 to 7,000 long tons, valued at $590,951,
the highest figures being in 1913. In 1916 production rose to
15,686 tons, whose value was $1,746,511.

The future promises much, for experts are entirely agreed
that the Philippines offer every opportunity to the new in-
dustry. The consular correspondent reports :™

Maguey does well in the islands and there is much land adapted to
its culture. The acreage is rapidly increasing.

Maguey is used almost exclusively for binder twine. For
this reason exportation is confined in general to the United
States and Europe. During the war a specialist in fiber plant
production was assigned to the Philippines by the U. S. Depart-
ment of Agriculture with a view of promoting interest in the
binder twine fiber industry. Appropriations were made for
experimental and extension work which are now being carried
on. In a preliminary report the expert reaffirms the suitability
of soil and climatic conditions for increased production of
maguey.

MINOR FIBER PLANTS

While this investigator was studying the development of the
maguey industry he was authorized to carry on experiments
with other fibers whose commercial importance might be de-
veloped. These experiments have not proceeded far enough to
draw final conclusions but it appears that the kapok fiber will
grow satisfactorily. Kapok is the mass of silky fibers investing
the seed of the silk-cotton tree. Commercially it is called Java
cotton and used as a filling for mattresses.

Attempts have been made to find a type of cotton which may
be grown extensively. So far all efforts have failed, but more
experiments are being continually tried. The Panama hat plant
grows readily and may be grown commercially. Ramie or
Chinese grass seems particularly well adapted to conditions.
The fiber is of superior quality and is well known in all fiber
markets. There is every indication that ramie will be among
the fibers exported from the Philippines before many years.
The fiber of the pina, pineapple tree, is used locally in making
both a coarse gauzy fabric and a very fine textile. Buri raffia
is the skin stripped from the leaf segments of the buri shoots
before the blade has unfolded. The product is obtained from
the buri palm.

11 Daily Commerce Reports, Oct. 30, 1917, p. 411.

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 171

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN: PAST,
PRESENT AND FUTURE

By Dr. ROBERT E. COKER
U. S. BUREAU OF FISHERIES

remarked; “‘ He wuz de out’nes’ man er de whole gang.
He wuz dat.” Uncle Remus, with rare sagacity and dry humor
such as never failed him, ascribed to a supposedly lowly animal
a unique place among the beings that peopled the world of his
fancy. But the terrapin has appealed not alone to the imagina-
tion of an unlettered story teller. Among the ancient Hindus,
where philosophy or mysticism exercised high reign, the earth
has been pictured as a half-sphere borne on the backs of four
elephants; and these mighty creatures in turn are shown to be
supported upon the back of a single tortoise—not the diamond-
back, to be sure, but one of its fairly close relatives. Truly, this
suggestion of a tortoise or terrapin as the very foundation upon
which the living pillars of the earth find support gives brother
hard-shell no mean place in nature’s great scheme of things.
And even in the present day there exist many persons, neither
unlettered nor blinded by ancient tradition, hard-headed busi-
ness men in fact, that raise the terrapin to lofty rank, rating it,
in the unambiguous language of cold dollars and cents, above
all other animals which find their way upon the tables where
men’s bodies are nourished and their palates cajoled.

There is nothing of fancy in the modern exaltation of the
diamond-back terrapin, nor would I even seem to suggest that
men of to-day, in solemn feast assembled, approach the terrapin
in anything of the spirit of philosophy or of performance of
religious ceremony. We may be sure indeed that the present
preeminent position of the diamond-back terrapin among
costly meat foods is based upon sincere gustatory discrimina-
tion and that its savory presence is approached with no other
sentiments than those which become the highest gastronomic
observance. At any rate, it is fairly established that the dia-
mond-back terrapin, lowly as it might seem to the uninitiated,
holds no mean place in man’s esteem, and we are surely justi-
fied in making inquiry into its manner of being, its self-per-
petuation, and the conditions of its conservation.

66 | Dap terrapin wuz de out’nes’ man,” Uncle Remus once

172 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

First, there may be those who would know what is a dia-
mond-back terrapin. Well, it is a reptile—startling as that
statement may sound to some who would find difficulty in as-
sociating the most precious of flesh-pots of America with a
class of animals that is generally despised. But turtles (in-
cluding terrapin and tortoises) form a sort of unique class.
They are never like anything else. Persons may dispute
whether a certain animal, as a whale for example, is fish or
mammal; they may engage in wordy combat concerning the
relationships of various sorts of animals; but one can not get
up the mildest kind of argument as to whether a particular
turtle is a turtle or not. Turtles are unmistakable now,
and it seems almost as if they always have been so. We find
them in geologic formations dating from Triassic times, and
almost as far back as we find them, the same principal
groups are recognizable that we have to-day. The missing
links that would connect them with other classes of animals
are absolutely missing. Perhaps a terrapin did not sup-
port the earth originally, or have anything to do with mak-
ing it, but one was there pretty early any way. Having held
its own for such long ages, we may well impute to the turtle
clan, biologically speaking, a rare tenacity of purpose, and a
signal ability to attend to the essential business affairs of life
regardless of the phenomena which, as age succeeded age, have
worked marvelous changes upon the face of the earth and the
conditions of animal existence. That clan has watched these
changes with seeming equanimity. It is little to wonder at,
then, that mythologists and fabulists have thought to divine in
the tortoise, beneath its taciturn demeanor, inexpressive dome,
and inscrutable countenance, a shrewd and super-animal intel-
ligence, or even a sense of cosmic responsibility.

All members of the turtle family are alike in certain essen-
tial respects, but they differ widely among themselves in various
details of structure and appearance, in habits and in size.
There are those of the broad ocean with flippers instead of feet;
there are those that live almost continually in the waters of
rivers and ponds; there are those that seem equally at home on
land or in water; there are those that live exclusively upon
land; and there are some that have homes beneath the ground.
As to size, there is the great leather turtle or luth of the sea,
attaining a weight of half a ton at least; there are the gigantic
land tortoises of the Galapagos Islands and of islands of the
South Indian Ocean, attaining a standing height of 2 feet; and
there are the little mud turtles that we find in pocket-sized
editions.

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 173

The diamond-back stands at no extreme as regards size,
form, appearance or habit; but, among turtles, the diamond-
back terrapin is peculiar in one respect; that is in its choice of
habitat. There are many species of turtle in interior ponds and
streams; there are various kinds of turtles in the sea; but, in
the zone between salt and fresh-water, the diamond-back reigns
supreme. An occasional sea turtle may wander into the salt
creeks; while, from the other side, the common mud turtle, at
least, will trespass a little way upon the brackish marshes; but
none other than the diamond-back makes its home in the dis-
tinctly tidal regions where salt and brackish waters ebb and
flow.

Exactly what factors determine the limits of wanderings of
the diamond-back are not known. It is exposed to virtually
pure sea water in seasons of spring tides, and it has been ob-
served to live with apparent prosperity in fresh water flowing
from an artesian well when it has been supplied with sea food;
yet it is not known to go into the sea, nor does it ascend coastal
streams above the limit of brackish water. On two occasions
experiments were conducted in keeping diamond-back terrapin
in a pond and a tank of fresh water supplied from the Missis-
sippi River at Fairport, Iowa; but in each case they survived
only a few months. At such a place they could not of course
receive fresh meat from the sea, and the lack of suitable food
may have been at least a contributory cause of death.

Few observations have been.made upon the food of terrapin
in nature, but such as have been made indicate that they subsist
chiefly upon small gastropods, crabs and worms. Feeding is
done principally when the tide is up; then, if one is lucky, the
terrapin may be found swimming in the marshes and browsing
upon the periwinkles that creep upon every blade of grass. So
innumerable are periwinkles upon the tidal marshes that there
can be no danger of inadequacy of food supply for the small
remnant of terrapin that survives in the present day. Indeed,
viewing the lavish array of food and the lack of competition
from its own kind, there is no occasion for wonder at the great
abundance of diamond-back terrapin in former days, when, ac-
cording to the stories that are told in certain regions, the ter-
rapin were a pest to fishermen whose seines sometimes became
choked with them, and when they were the cheapest and most
available food to be given the slaves upon the lowland plan-
tations.

Feeding might be continued when the tide is out, but now it
seems the instinct for concealment comes more strongly into

174 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

play and the terrapin crawl into the mud where they may be
partially or entirely concealed. I have known a terrapin to sub-
merge itself in soft mud deep beneath a blue crab which had
previous possession of a small bare spot amidst the marsh grass.
Its presence there could never have been suspected but that the
observer was close on the trail.

Needless to say, with animals now so rare and possessing so
well developed an instinct for concealment, the fisherman or
collector who would find them must needs have keen vision or
else shrewd knowledge of the habits of his prey. Skirting the
small open places in the marsh, or following the shores of a
proper creek, and inserting a stick into the mud at suspicious
places here and there, may be the means of acquiring an occa-
sional prize. However, the majority of the diamond-back ter-
rapin brought to market are taken more or less by chance by
fishermen pursuing other manner of prey.

When winter falls, the diamond-back, like other terrapin,
ceases from its labors, finds shelter in the mud, usually, no
doubt, in the deeper places, and remains comparatively dormant.
Rarely in midwinter the hibernating terrapin is grappled by
an oysterman working over a mud bottom; but it is said,
too, even in the same season to be taken occasionally upon the
high marshes. Little, if any, study has been made of the be-
havior of terrapin in hibernation. When they have been re-
tained in an enclosure offering essentially natural conditions, I
have observed that while hibernating they did not remain al-
ways in one spot. Occasionally an individual has been observed
to creep slowly beneath the mud, or even to rise and swim at the
surface. In this pen, none would come for food after hiberna-
tion had begun; but in another and smaller enclosure, supplied
with water of nearly constant temperature from an artesian
well, terrapin, on any warm day in winter, would come out in
numbers to sun themselves upon the sand, and at such times
they would take food as eagerly as in summer.' It has since
been found that young terrapin kept and fed in a heated win-
_ tering house will make rapid growth during the first winter.
- Terrapin can withstand for a short time, at least, cold severe
enough to leave them encased in ice.

Little is known of their enemies and doubtless the large ter-
rapin have few, but the young must not infrequently fall a prey
to fish and birds and to rats and other mammals.

1 Coker, R. E., The Natural History and Cultivation of the Diamond-

back Terrapin. Bull. No. 14. The North Carolina Geological Survey.
69 pp. Raleigh, 1906.

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 175

In regard to propagation, be it said first that the diamond-
back terrapin practices polygamy, or, more correctly perhaps,
indiscriminate mating. Experiments indicate that a ratio of
about one male to three females in a pen is sufficient to insure a
maximum of productivity in fertile eggs and healthy offspring.
It is perhaps only a coincidence that, in every brood that has
been reared in the Bureau’s experimental work, females have
far exceeded the males in number, one male to three females
being a high ratio. It is not yet known whether or not this dif-
ference is due to the loss of males by death before the terrapin
attain an age at which the sexes are externally distinguishable.
There is another curious characteristic of terrapin. Mating
does not have to occur each year. Females entirely separated
from males after having mated will continue to lay fertile eggs
for three of four years, but after a number of years the eggs
produced are infertile and mating is again necessary before
eggs will be laid from which young terrapin will develop.

Egg laying in the region of Beaufort, N. C., occurs prin-
cipally in June and July though it may sometimes begin earlier.
At this time, at least, the female terrapin must come out of the
tide-washed regions of the marsh and tread upon dry ground.
Here and there amidst the marshes the winds and waves have
built low sandy hummocks upon which the terrapin often finds
conditions suitable for the incubation of its eggs. In such a
location I have found several nests, each containing from two to
eight eggs buried beneath six or eight inches of sand. It has
been observed in experimental breeding pens that some terrapin
will lay more than once in a season. Professor Hay has de-
scribed the process of nest making.? The female terrapin, hav-
ing selected a suitable location, if available, scoops out with her
hind feet a jug-shaped hole about 5 inches deep and 21% or 314
inches in diameter at the widest part. This is the “nest” into
which she backs as far as possible and drops her eggs; then,
having carefully replaced the sand or earth and packed it down,
she conceals the spot by crawling back and forth over it, and
goes away to leave the eggs to their fate. If the sand bed is too
dry and another suitable nesting place can not be found, she
drops her eggs wherever she happens to be. Usually a single
nest contains but eight or nine eggs, but the average number of
eggs laid by a single well-grown female is known to be much
higher.

2 Hay, W. P., Artificial Propagation of the Diamond-back Terrapin.
U. S. Bureau of Fisheries Economic Circular No. 5, Revised, pp. 1-21.
Washington, 1917.

176 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

That is all that we can say of the relation of the diamond-
back terrapin to its family. Mating occurs at a seasonable
time; eggs are laid in a proper place, and sometimes in an im-
proper place; and, so far as we know, neither parent ever gives
thought to the welfare of its offspring or even recognizes them
when they meet in passing.

The young hatch from the eggs after eight or nine weeks
and may remain in the nest for some time, perhaps all winter.
Most of them, however, soon emerge from the nests, but only to
find prompt concealment in the sand or mud or under grass and
drift. Moreover the young terrapin in nature seem to take no
food before the following spring and it is only then that growth
may begin.

The evidence from the study of the rings on the scutes of the
shell indicates that terrapin grow at a variable rate, and that a
good rate of growth is about an inch or a little less a year (meas-
ured on the bottom shell) during each of the first two years,
somewhat less during the third year, and about half an inch for
each of the next two years. Sometimes growth is more rapid,
for terrapin have been found 514 inches in length and bearing
evidence of not exceeding five years of growth; more often, as
it seems, growth is somewhat slower.

The sexes become distinguishable in the third or fourth year
when the females have attained a length of 314 to 4 inches and
the males a length of 3 to 314 inches. When growth is accel-
erated by winter feeding of the young in confinement, sex dif-
ferences, according to Hay, become evident, during the third
summer. The conspicuous external differences between the
sexes are the much larger proximal section of the tail and the
smaller head of the male, with usually a more wedge-shaped
rear outline of the carapace. The females, too, are deeper-
bodied than the males. It can be observed now that the males
are falling behind in rate of growth. They are, in fact, near-
ing full size when the females are but midway of their physical
development. The average size of adult males is about 4 inches
on the bottom shell; the largest example I have measured had
a plastron length on the middle line of 4.16 inches, though a
dealer told me that he had once possessed a 5-inch male. Fe-
males, on the other hand, normally attain a length of 6 inches
or more, applying the same standard of measurement. A
length of 7 inches is not infrequent and, at different times, each
of two dealers has stated that he once sold a dozen measuring
over 8 inches. One of these men assured me that he had had a
female measuring 914 inches. Such a terrapin would probably

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 177

have measured 18 inches from end of snout to tip of tail—a
giant indeed among diamond-backs. It is apparent that the
valuable terrapin of commerce is the female. The males are
sold, however, and in many instances no doubt the undersized
females go along with them. They are quoted as “bulls,” for-
merly at $10.00 to $12.00 a dozen, while “half counts,” or
females measuring between 5 and 6 inches, would bring twice
as much, and “ counts,’”’ or those measuring 6 inches or better,
would command $36.00 to $40.00 or more; 7-inch terrapin,
which are not rare, could be sold at $60.00 to $70.00 per dozen.
The two exceptional dozens of terrapin measuring over 8 inches,
previously mentioned, brought, according to the dealers, in one
instance $96.00 and in the other $125. These are all wholesale
prices, the retail prices being, of course, substantially higher.

Viewing the delay of wild terrapin in starting to grow, and
the relatively slow growth, particularly during the later years,
and, in connection with these facts, the great increase in com-
mercial value with growth in size, it is evident that marked
economic benefits may be derived if growth can be accelerated
by the application of cultural methods and selection.

It is fair to presume that there is opportunity for selection.
Certainly there is great diversity among terrapin in nearly
every characteristic. The variation, or, one might say, the in-
dividuality of diamond-back terrapin, has attracted frequent
comment from observers (Agassiz, Bangs, Hay and Coker).*
In size, in color, in depth, in outline, in smoothness or rough-
ness of shell, scarcely any two are alike. In behavior too—in
activity, boldness, promptness to take food and other respects—
distinct individuality is manifest among terrapin in confine-
ment. Correlated no doubt with activity and aggressiveness in
feeding, pronounced differences in rate of growth are indicated
by the rings on the scutes of terrapin of different sizes in nature,
and conspicuous diversity in size marks terrapin of the same age
when reared in confinement. If such traits or characteristics
as those upon which differences in rate of growth are based are
hereditary, and one might suppose they were, there is reason to

’ Agassiz, Louis, Contributions to the Natural History of the United
States of America. Vol. 1, Part 2, North American Testudinata. Bos-
ton, 1857.

Bangs, Outram, An Important Addition to the Fauna of Massachu-
setts, Proceedings of the Boston Society of Natural History, 27, Boston,
1896.

Coker, loc. cit.

Hay, W. P., A Revision of Malaclemmys, a Genus of Turtles. Bul-
letin U. S. Bureau of Fisheries for 1904, Vol. XXIV.

VOL. x1.—12.

178 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THD FEMALD OR * HEN” TERRAPIN has a much larger head and a smaller tail than

the male or “bull.” They also attain a much greater size. The relative sizes are
not indicated im this illustration except as suggested by the 38-inch rule shown at the
right of each example. The length of the bottom shell of the female was 6.5 inches,
of the male 4.1. total lengths, 10.87 and 7.5 inches, respectively.

believe that by proper selection a more rapid growing race of
terrapin might shortly be developed.

But there is another chance of accelerating growth, and that
is by eliminating the waste periods of winter, especially that
first winter which normally is passed before feeding and in-
crease in size are begun. This suggestion was originally offered
by Mr. H. B. Aller in 1911 while Superintendent of the United
States Fisheries Biological Laboratory at Beaufort, North Caro-
lina. My experiments (p. 174 above) had already shown that
terrapin will feed during the winter when given favorable con-
ditions of temperature. Mr. Aller’s significant suggestion was
given effect when there was constructed a wintering house in
which terrapin of various ages were kept and fed during the
cold months. The house was built much upon the plan of a
greenhouse for flowers, having a long sloping glass roof with
southern exposure so that the heat of the sun might be availed
of to the fullest extent; in addition, a small stove was placed in
the center. The effort was made to maintain a temperature of

about 80° F.

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 179

The results of this experiment abundantly justified the sug-
gestion, at least as regards the stimulation of growth during the
first winter of life. By the beginning of the following summer,
at a time when, if left to themselves and the usual course of
hibernation, the young terrapin would have been approximately
the same size as when hatched from the eggs, or slightly smaller,
many of the winter-fed terrapin had attained a size normally
characteristic of terrapin two or three years of age. As re-
gards growth secured during subsequent winters, it was deter-
mined, after experiment, that the increase in size of older ter-
rapin while notable, was scarcely sufficient to justify the ex-
pense of feeding the larger terrapin with their correspondingly
greater individual food requirement.

These considerations lead us naturally to the subject of the
culture of the diamond-back terrapin, a field in which exper-
iments have been conducted by the Bureau of Fisheries for
nearly twenty years. The results of these experiments, as real-
ized up to a comparatively recent date, have been epitomized by
Dr. Hay in an Economic Circular of the Bureau of Fisheries
entitled ‘“‘ Artificial Propagation of the Diamond-back Ter-
rapin.” Having referred the reader to that publication, I may
be very brief in outlining some of the conditions and practices
of terrapin culture.

GooD ENOUGH TO BAT though only half-grown.
A female diamond-back. Plastral length 4.44 inches.

180 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

More than 25,000 newly hatched terrapin were kept warm and fed through the cold
season in this winter house of a commercial terrapin farm at Beaufort, N. C.

The first requirement is an enclosure, or several enclosures,
of considerable size, in which the adult terrapin can live and
feed and grow. In such an enclosure, or pound, the terrapin
should find, as far as practicable, the same variety of natural
conditions which he encounters in the wild state. There should
be water of fair depth with soft mud bottom for hibernation,
marsh, dry ground and a laying bed of fairly clean sand above
the level of high tides but not so far above the water level as to
be unnaturally dry. It is thought that the space enclosed should
be of such an area as to allow about 10 square feet for each
adult terrapin.

The second requirement covers separate enclosures for the
young terrapin of different ages. Diamond-back are not known
to be cannibalistic; in fact, the entire indifference of the adult
terrapin to the young is the principal occasion for trouble, for
the young terrapin are likely to be trampled by the large ones.
The growing terrapin also have a better chance to feed if segre-
gated according to size or age.

A third requirement for most effective results is the winter
house such as has been previously described. This must have
its proper equipment of water, tanks, and small troughs or trays
in which the young terrapin are kept and fed. There must also
be a home for the watchman and due provision for protection of
the valuable stock by means of proper fencing. It is not known
that fresh-water is absolutely essential to diamond-back ter-
rapin but a supply of running water is very desirable in connec-

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 181

tion with a terrapin farm for use in cleansing the feeding
boards or troughs. Not less essential than these physical re-
quirements are the availability of a proper food supply and,
finally, wise and attentive personal supervision.

The staple article fed to the terrapin at Beaufort is fish, but
an occasional feeding of blue crabs or fiddlers is given. During
the winter the young terrapin are fed as far as possible upon
oysters, using those of the “‘raccoon”’ type which appear abun-
dantly in shallow waters about Beaufort and which can be ob-
tained at a low price. The fish used are obtained from local fish
houses or direct from fishermen, those being employed which
are not valued on the food market because of kind or size. The
food must be cut into small pieces before being fed to the ter-
rapin, and this can be done either with a hatchet and board or
by the use of a common meat grinder. Quantities amounting
to about 2 ounces for each adult are supplied every day during
the season of activity, or from April 1 to December 1. In 1917
it was estimated that the daily cost of food ranged from five te
ten cents per one hundred animals.

It is interesting to observe how quickly terrapin will learn
to associate certain signs with the occurrence of meal time. If
the meat is regularly chopped on a board before they are fed,
within a few days the sound of chopping or rapping will be
sufficient to bring large numbers of terrapin out of conceal-

HALF-GROWN TERRAPIN, “ TAKING THE SUN.”

182 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ment and cause them to assemble at the feeding place. At one
time I fed some terrapin at night for a short period. After
but a few days, the bringing of a light to the pen in the even-
ing was sufficient to bring the terrapin out in force.

Cleanliness is an essential condition of success. In the win-
ter house proper sanitation requires the thorough cleaning of
the terrapin boxes every day and preferably the rinsing of each
box with a suitable antiseptic solution. As regards the larger
pens, sanitation may be accomplished chiefly by natural means,
that is, by having a sufficient tidal flow of brackish water
through the pen and by the avoidance of overcrowding.
Diamond-back terrapin seem little liable to disease, but they
ean not withstand highly unfavorable conditions, and, where
terrapin are greatly overcrowded, or filth is allowed to accumu-
late in the pens, or other conditions are distinctly unnatural,
most serious conditions of disease have been known to develop.

The results of the experiments may be summarized. It has
been shown, that terrapin born and reared in confinement de-
velop in a normal way and will reproduce their kind; that the
reproductive cycle may be completed in 6 or 7 years, when the
terrapin hibernate in nature; and that, by preventing hiberna-
tion and forcing growth through the first winter by feeding in
a heated house, the maturity as well as the growth of the ter-
rapin may be advanced by one year, so that a new generation
is started in 5 or 6 years rather than in 6 or 7.

The adult breeding stock of terrapin steadily increased in
productivity from year to year until a certain maximum was
reached. This is well shown by a series of figures showing the
average numbers of young produced by the females of the orig-
inal breeding stock during a series of years. In 1912, for ex-
ample, the pen of breeders containing the oldest stock yielded
12.81 young per female. The yield rose each year until 1915
when 21.43 young per female were taken. Later years brought
somewhat smaller crops, but never less than that of any year
preceding 1915. In 1919, the number of offspring per female
exceeded 19. Some of these breeders have been in captivity
about 17 years.. Experience, then, indicates the advisability of
retaining a select brood stock for a rather indefinite period, in-
stead of adopting new breeders from year to year, as might be
done in stock raising.

The value of winter feeding during the first season is well
established by the increased rate of growth, the shortening of
the time required to attain reproductive maturity, and the very
low rate of mortality. The death rate is generally low. Among

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 183

700 newly hatched terrapin fed on fresh food one winter the
loss was about 614 per cent. The death rate in hibernating
stock was 13 per cent. According to computations made about
three years ago the cost of food for winter feeding at Beaufort
varied from 3 to 15 cents per 1,000 young terrapin per day,
according as salt fish, fresh fish, or oysters were used. Assum-
ing 10 cents as an average daily expenditure per 1,000 terrapin,
the cost of food for 1 terrapin for a period of 5 months in the
first winter was, at that time, 11% cents.

The death rate among terrapin after the first season is so
small as to be nearly negligible. It is found to be about 1 per
cent. in the second year, diminishing with age to one half per
cent. and less. The principal mortality occurs in the first sea-
son, and is then chiefly among the “runts,’’ which should prop-
erly be culled out in ordinary practise. The losses are remark-
ably low when it is considered that deaths occur principally
when terrapin are very young and before they have become a
source of expense, and that the productivity of the terrapin is
such that even a loss of 30 per cent. at this stage could readily
be compensated for by increasing the numbers hatched and
saved for rearing. So far as regards disease and death rates,
the rearing of terrapin is a matter of much less difficulty than
the raising of poultry.

The history of the experiments during many years gives
strong grounds for belief that domestication of terrapin is ac-
companied by increasing productivity and diminishing disease
and mortality.

The experiments in terrapin culture have not the nature of
small laboratory tests but are carried out upon such a scale as
to be comparable to commercial operations. There are usually
about 3,000 terrapin under observation and classified in 20 or
more experiments which are being directed to obtain definite
answers to several practical questions that yet demand atten-
tion and justify the continuance of the investigations. It has
been possible also to check results against those obtained in a
commercial farm which adopted methods based upon those fol-
lowed in the Bureau’s work. From this it appears that the
various results gained in the Bureau’s experimental work are
not to be taken as exceptional, but that they are, in a general
way, typical of what may be expected in cultural operations
conducted according to sound principles and with the exercise
of proper care.

Now let us consider briefly the past, present and possible
future economic history of the terrapin. Diamond-back ter-

184 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

rapin occur along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts of the United
States from Buzzards Bay, Mass., south and west to Texas. At
one time it was considered that there was but one species; but,
after comparison of specimens from many regions, it has been
determined that the terrapin should be classified in 4 species
and one subspecies.t They may be called geographic species;
one replaces the other as we pass from one section of the coast
to another. The several species, no doubt, represent adapta-
tions of essentially the same form to different climatic condi-
tions. It is commonly known among market men that the
quality of terrapin varies according to the geographic region
from which they are derived. It seems that in the earliest
days of terrapin glory the Delaware Bay terrapin had highest
rank; owing partly, no doubt, to the depletion of Delaware ter-
rapin, the Chesapeake Bay came to be depended upon for the
market supply and for many years now ‘“ Chesapeakes” have
held unrivalled rank. As the diamond-back became scarcer in
both of these bays, some shippers of Chesapeake terrapin began
to replenish their stock with terrapin brought from North
Carolina waters. After these had been kept for a short time
in pounds on the Chesapeake Bay they were sometimes mixed
with native terrapin and shipped to the markets as Chesa-
peakes; others, no doubt, were sold correctly as North Carolina
terrapin. It is certain, too, that some South Carolina terrapin
were brought into North Carolina to be shipped with those of
the latter State to the Chesapeake and thence to city markets.
Thus many terrapin of comparatively low value, gradually ac-
quired social prestige, as it were, by a course of travel from
point to point along the Atlantic coast—from Georgetown, S.
C., to Wilmington, N. C., from Wilmington to Beaufort, from
Beaufort to Chrisfield, Md., and finally from Crisfield to Balti-
more or Philadelphia. Had these terrapin carried hand-bags,
they might have displayed an array of hotel stickers to shame
the traveler returned from Europe. Even some terrapin from
the Gulf States seem to have reached the markets of Baltimore
and New York by a devious journey through the hands of
dealers in Virginia and Maryland. It is understood among
market men and others that the farther south and west the
point of origin of the terrapin, the lower their quality. For
many years, however, there has been evidenced an increasing
willingness of consumers to accept at a lower price the terrapin
from southern waters and this has served to check the other-
wise unlimited rise in the price of ‘‘ Chesapeake” terrapin.

4 Hay, W. P., 1904, loc. cit.

THE DIAMOND-BACK TERRAPIN 185

We have seen that the diamond-back terrapin has had a
somewhat varied economic history, although development in
the past has been in one direction. In colonial days it was the
cheapest of foods, constituting a diet for slaves which became
so monotonous as even to cause, it is said, an eighteenth-century
strike for better food. By the early twentieth century it was
the rarest of delicacies in meats. This brings us to the present,
or at least nearly thereto. The war has recently intervened,
with its stimulation of thrift and frugality in food, to give the
terrapin a slight commercial setback. From this it has not
fully recovered, and, regarding the recovery, there is a certain
problem; it may be that there are two problems.

In the first place, it is well known that in times past, barely
past indeed, a self-respecting chef would never give a dish of
terrapin license to appear in public unless it had received its
baptism of sherry. Anything else was impossible, they said.
The laws of the Medes and Persians were not more strict than
this dictum of chefdom. New times call for new rules; but the
question is, will the terrapin survive the present regulations?
Now it might be said by some that the terrapin will pass with
the wine cup; that the extreme savoriness of the dish arose
from the vineyard where the juice was pressed from luscious
grapes rather than from the briny marshes where the particu-
lar terrapin had its former being. There is much to say
against this. If the savoriness of the favored dish was due
primarily to the wine that had been added, why did intelligent
and experienced persons pay fancy prices for diamond-back
terrapin, when other kinds of meats, other species of terrapin,
too, were always obtainable at far less cost? It is known that
fraudulent ‘terrapin’ stews for the inexperienced were made
from fresh-water terrapin, from chicken, and even from veal,
but the evidence all indicates that the wise in the mysteries of
gastronomy were never deceived by such imitations. Truly,
the diamond-back terrapin must have an inherent flavor that is
held to justify the price at which it is purchased. Assuming
this to be the case, it is not at all improbable that, as the con-
noisseurs in foods adjust themselves to the new conditions
when wine is no longer a condiment for any pot of flesh, the
diamond-back terrapin will continue to hold its relative rank
among the favored viands. The future will tell.

One other fear, apart from the effect of the ban upon
“spiritual”? condiments, has been voiced by a terrapin dealer.
“They are dying off,” he said, meaning good buyers; “It is the
old buyers only that come to me for diamond-backs.” This

186 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

introduces the question of the future of epicureanism in
America, a question not altogether extraneous to our present
subject of discussion. Are the epicures of to-day relicts of a
past generation as some have suggested? While personally, I
am not of the epicures, yet I have no lack of faith in the useful-
ness of the clan. I am not an athlete and am conscious of no
desire to become one, but if I should be told that the athletes
are dying off and that those which remain have acquired their
skill in a past generation—I should probably “view with
alarm ”’ the impending physical deterioration of our race. Just
what is the public service of an athlete it may be hard to say
with entire correctness, but I have a feeling that, with their
high bodily and mental skill and endurance, they are path-
finders in physical achievement, examples of possible accom-
plishment and leaders or stimulators of normal, healthy phys-
ical development. Just so, the epicure with his highly devel-
oped organs of taste, keen discrimination and balanced judg-
ment in matters gustatory, discovers the possibilities in the
selection and blending of foods and condiments, blazes the way
to perfection of appeal to the palate and indirectly, it may well
be, leads to the betterment of general standards of cooking.
Physiologists tell us that savoriness of food has a decided effect
upon efficiency of digestion and effectiveness of nutrition. Pen-
ologists assure us that bodily nourishment, or the lack of it, has
much to do with disposition to crime. Is it possible that the
epicure is one of the corner stones of human morality? At
any rate I trust that his kind is not to be extinguished.

It is not meant to suggest that the fate of the terrapin,
dietetically speaking, is contingent upon the survival of the
epicure, as that term is understood. As regards the commer-
cial future of the diamond-back, it would, indeed, be a sad com-
mentary upon the fallibility of man’s honored organ of taste if,
after it had extolled the terrapin for so many years, it should
now proclaim that the diamond-back of itself is not more sav-
ory than anything else. We shall adjust ourselves to revolu-
tionary changes, we shall submit to the subversion of many
cherished standards of thought and practise, but we shall not
willingly sink to that depth of pessimism which anticipates
that the supreme court of gastronomy will reverse itself. The
terrapin had its course of training; it passed the high tests im-
posed upon it; it received its diploma and order of merit. Shall
it not meet a changing world, and even go forth from cloistered
epicurean walls to win and hold a broad esteem? The Diamond-
back forever!

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

187

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

WILLIAM CRAWFORD GORGAS

THE suppression of yellow fever,
malaria and dysentery in the Pan-
ama Canal Zone is one of the tri-
umphs of modern medicine, and
General Gorgas, under whose direc-
tion the work was accomplished,
symbolises more completely _per-
haps than any one else the control
of disease by science and the appli-
cations of pathology. The war had
one mitigation in that the death
rate from disease was lowered to
an extraordinary extent, and here
again General Gorgas, as_ the
surgeon general of the United
States Army, represents this great
achievement. He thus. attained
worldwide recognition and his death
in London on his way to Africa is
a cause of general regret.

Gorgas, born in Mobile, Alabama,
in 1854, came from one of the his-
toric families of the South. His
grandfather was governor of Ala-
bama, and his father, General

Josiah Gorgas, was one of the West)

Point trained officers of the Con-
federate Army.
from the University of the South

He was graduated |

and from the Bellevue Hospital
Medical College, and became an,
army surgeon in 1880. He saw

service in Florida, in the West and_

cn the Mexican border, and had
risen to the rank of major in 1898,
when he was with the expedition
against Santiago. Thence he was
sent to Havana to be the chief sani-
tary officer of that city during the
American occupation.

/Commission in 1907.

of the conditions of infection de-

termined by the American Army
Commission, consisting of Reed,
Carroll, Agramonti and _ Lazear.

Immediately following this investi-
gation and based upon its scientific
findings, Gorgas succeeded in prac-
tically eliminating yellow fever in
Havana and throughout the island.

Congress, in recognition of this
work, in 1903, by special act made
him colonel and assistant surgeon
general, and then, a year later, he
was sent to Panama, becoming chief
sanitary officer of the Canal Zone,
in 1904, and a member of the Canal
In the days of
the old French company, which at-
tempted to build the Panama Canal,
tropical diseases annually claimed
one fourth of all its workers. The
French were powerless before this
pestilence. When Gorgas became
general sanitary officer of the Canal
Commission the annual death toll

had been reduced, but it was still

difficult to obtain the vast army of
workmen necessary and to care for
those disabled by malaria, yellow
fever and dysentery. Innine years,
by a systematic campaign for the
destruction of the mosquito as the
carrying agent of disease, and by
other sanitary measures, Gorgas
virtually drove these diseases from
the Isthmus. When he gave up the
work, deaths among the Canal

workers had been reduced to five per

Cuba was a center of yellow fever,
and Dr. Carlos Finlay of Havana

had proposed the theory that mos-
quitos were the carriers. The truth

of this theory was proved and many |

thousand annually.

While in the Canal Zone, Gorgas
visited Guayaquil and mapped out
a plan to rid that city, long known
as the “pesthole of the Pacific,”
from the yellow fever scourge, and
his plan was in process of execution
when the war began. In the winter

ght Underwood and Underwood

yri

Cop
GORGAS

CRAWFORD

WILLIAM

ENERAL

G

Copyright Underwood and Underwood.

Dr. RAPHABL PUMPELLY, THE GEOLOGIST AND EXPLORER. WITH Dr. W. B. Scorr
(ON THD LEFT), PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY AND PALEONTOLOGY AT PRINCETON, AT THE
TIMP THD DEGREN OF DocTror Or LAWS WAS CONFERRED ON Dr. Pt MPELLY BY PRINCE-
TON UNIVERSITY.

190

of 19138, he went to South Africa, at
the invitation the Chamber of
Mines of Johannesburg, to investi-

of

gate the high death rate from pneu-
monia among the natives working
in the mines of the Rand. By ap-
plying the army methods of increas-
ing the air space of sleeping quar-
ters the death rate was materially
lowered.

Gorgas was appointed surgeon
general of the U. S. Army on Jan-
uary 16, 1914, and was given the
rank of major general in 1915.

In|

1916, he spent several months in

South America in making a pre-

liminary survey of localities still in-
““

fested with yellow fever, the ‘“ en-
demic foci” of disease, for the
Rockefeller Foundation. Upon his)

retirement from active duty in the’
Army in the fall of 1918, he re-|

sumed this work and _ had

just |

started upon an investigation of the |

African foci at the time of his death.

THE SUPPLY OF PLATINUM

THE London Times discusses the
world’s supply of platinum limited
by the demands of war and the
failure of the Russian mines. Since

this metal was described and named
Brazil, Mexico, the United States,

as new in 1750 by an English physi-

cist, Sir William Watson, its singu-|

lar properties have led to a con-
tinuously increasing demand. It is
slightly heavier than gold, and, like

cold, is very ductile and malleable.
It resists all acids except aqua regia, |
and mixtures generating chlorine.

Very large quantities of it are used

in modern dentistry, and during the

war munition factories absorbed all
that could be obtained.
prefers it to gold or silver as a set-
ting for precious stones, and it is a
component of many of the most
costly examples of his art. The
chemist in his laboratory requires it
for ladles and beakers, for retorts

and crucibles. Makers of incandes-

The jeweller

cent lamps, electricians, and scien-'

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tific instrument makers all require
it. Platinum has the curious prop-
erty of absorbing large quantities of
hydrogen and other gases, which in
this occluded condition display a
special activity. It is therefore em-
ployed in chemical industry as a
catalyzer, that is to say, as anagent
which excites chemical changes into
which it does not itself enter. Even
before the war, the relatively limited
supply of the metal was unequal to
the demand. The price rose rapidly.
A dozen years ago platinum was 20
per cent. more valuable than gold.
In 1914 it was more than twice the
price of gold. In 1918 an ounce was
worth five ounces of gold. After
the armistice there was a slight fall,
probably due to the liberation of
supplies that had been withheld, but
now, although gold itself has appre-
ciated, platinum has eight times the
value of gold. There is a possibility
that new sources may be discovered,
because it has a wide distribution
usually in association with aurif-
erous deposits. There are traces of
it in the sands of the Rhine, in Lap-
land, Norway, and near Wicklow, in
Ireland. It occurs in appreciable
quantities in Honduras, Columbia,

and British Columbia. It has been
found in Borneo, Australasia, the
Transvaal, Madegascar. But 90
per cent. of the world’s production
used to come from the Ural Moun-
tains, where it is relatively abun-
dant, and so easily worked that
other sources have not yet been
seriously exploited. In the early
years of last century over a million
three-rouble pieces were minted,
then worth about ten shillings; now,
if they could be found, worth at
least £12. Efforts are being made
to increase the production in Colom-
bia; but, if Russia ever gets to work
again, she will find that her plati-
num deposits are worth many gold-
mines.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE DETECTION OF PLATI-
NUM THEFTS

AT the St. Louis meeting of the
American Chemical Society a com-
munication was presented from Dr.
W. F. Hillebrand regarding the ap-
parently organized thefts of plati-
num ware that are taking place
throughout the United States, with
the suggestion that a committee be
appointed to consider whether or
not legislation might not be recom-

mended to Congress which would.

assist in controlling the matter.

The council voted that such a com-,

mittee be appointed, and the presi-
dent appointed R. B. Moore, of the
Bureau of Mines, Washington, D.
C., Chas. H. Kerk, of J. F. Bishop
and Company, Malvern, Pa., and
Geo. F. Kunz, of Tiffany and Com-
pany.

The news service of the American
Chemical Society has issued a bul-
letin describing the arrest of two

men while attempting to dispose of |

280 troy ounces of

metal.

platinum
“sponge,” the porous state of the platinum, which
They had left small lots, proved to be a mixture of mercury

191

sembled the stocks at the War De-
partment plant in Nitro, West Vir-
ginia, where the inventory showed
there should be 5,800 ounces of
sponge, and also the stock of 13,800
ounces at a government military
plant at Jacksonville, Tennessee. As
some of the platinum at Nitro was
known to contain a large percentage
of palladium, that supposed to be
stolen seemed to have come from
Jacksonville. There the metal was
of exceptional purity as it contained
99.58 per cent. of platinum, with
slight traces of iridium, rhodium
and iron. Its texture was uniform
except that here and there were
lumps of a yellowish brown sub-
stance, which on ignition yielded
platinum sponge and gave off fumes
of chlorine. It was learned that an
order had been given at Jackson-
ville to turn back large quantities of

platinum chloride into sponge.
Then came a thorough search. In
eighty-six cans in the safe was

found a substance supposed to be
on examination

with two different firms who, having | With ordinary moist dirt.

circulars concerning various thefts,

notified the authorities. The Bureau. RETIREMENT OF CIVIL SERV-—
of Standards last March had lost 73)

ounces in the form of laboratory
ware valued at nearly $11,000, while
in December, 1919, the Roessler and
Hasslacher Company of Perth Am-
boy, had missed $5,000 worth of the
metal in the form of sponge. Sev-
eral universities had also complained
of platinum thefts.

The exact composition of definite
consignments of platinum is fairly
well known to chemists, the slight
variations being due to traces of
other substances, such as iridium.
Chemical analysis indicated that the
seized supply had come neither from
the New Jersey plant nor from the
laboratory of the Bureau of Stand-
ards. In its quality, it closely re-

ICE EMPLOYEES

THE act providing for the retire-
ment of civil service employees, in-
cluding scientific men in the govern-
ment service, is now effective. It
applies to employees who have been
in the classified service 15 or more

_years and who have reached the age

of 70 years (65 years in the case of
mechanics). Employees eligible for
retirement are divided
classes depending on length of serv-

into six
ice, and the maximum and minimum
annuities in each class are specified
by law, being contingent the
average annual basic salary for the
last 10 years of service. The classes,
maximum rates annuities
as follows:

on

and are

192

A. Service, 30 years or more; annuity,

GO per cent. of salary; maximum, $720;

minimum, S360.

B. Service, 27 years; annuity 54 per
cent. of salary; maximum, $648; mini-
mum, $324.

Cc. Service, 24 years; annuity, 48 per
eent. of salary; maximum, $576; mini-
mum, S288.

D. Service, 21 years; annuity, 42 per
cent. of salary; maximum, $504; mini-
mum, $202.

BE. Service, 18 years; annuity, 86 per |
cent. of salary; maximum, $4382: mini-
mum, $216.

F. Service, 15 years; annuity, 30 per
cent. of salary; maximum, $360; mini-

mum, $180.

Employees to whom the retire-
ment provisions of the act apply
shall, within 90 days of the passage
of the act or within 90 days after
reaching the retirement age, be
automatically separated from the
service. In cases where the respon-
sible administrative officers certify
to the Civil Service Commission that
employees who have reached the re-
tirement age but by reason of effi-
ciency and willingness to remain
may be advantageously continued in
the public service, such employees
may be retained for successive terms
of two years.

Beginning with August 1, 1920,
there will be withheld each month
21% per cent. of the basic salary of
each employee in the classified serv-
ice.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death
of Frank Shipley Collins, an Ameri-
can authority on the alge, of Leon-
ard Doneaster, recently elected pro-
fessor of biology at Liverpool, of
Augusto Righi, the Italian physicist,
and of Clement Arkadievitch Timi-
riazeff, emeritus professor of botany
in the University of Moscow.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE Royal Society of Arts has
conferred its Albert Medal on Dr.
A. A. Michelson, professor of phys-
ics in the University of Chicago.—
Cambridge University has conferred
the honorary degree of doctor of
laws upon Dr. Simon Flexner, direc-
tor of the laboratories of the Rocke-
feller Institute for Medical Research.

ON the recommendation of the
National Academy of Sciences the
Barnard medal for meritorious
service to science has been con-
ferred by Columbia University on
Professor Albert Einstein, of Ber-
lin, in recognition “of his highly
original and fruitful development
of the fundamental concepts of
physics through application of
mathematics.”—The Willard Gibbs
medal has been presented to Dr.
Frederick G. Cottrell, director of
the United States Bureau of Mines,
from the Chicago Section of the
American Chemical Society.

PROFESSOR JOHN C. MERRIAM, of
the University of California, was
elected president of the Carnegie
Institution of Washington on May
25, to succeed Dr. R. S. Woodward,
who will retire at his own request
at the end of the year, after six-
'teen years of service. Dr. Merriam
vis professor of paleontology and
‘dean at the University of Cali-
'fornia.— The National Research
Council has elected as chairman for
‘the year beginning on May 1, Dr.
.H. A. Bumstead, professor of phys-
ies and director of the Sloane phys-
ical laboratory at Yale University,
‘and as permanent secretary Dr.
| Vernon Kellogg, professor of ento-
“mology, at Stanford University.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

SEPTEMBER, 1920

THE POEM OF THE PHILOSOPHER THEO-
PHRASTOS UPON THE SACRED ART: A
METRICAL TRANSLATION WITH
COMMENTS UPON THE HISTORY
OF ALCHEMY

By Dr. C. A. BROWNE
NEW YORK CITY

MONG the remains of Greek literature that have come
a down from the Byzantine period are four poems in iam-
bic verse upon the divine or sacred art. ‘These poems, in the
fifteen or more manuscripts which are preserved in different
libraries of Europe, form part of a large collection of works
upon alchemy. Most of the prose manuscripts of this collec-
tion were edited and translated by the French chemist Berthe-
lot in 1888. The four poems, although a part of Berthelot’s
original plan, were not included in his edition of the Greek
alchemists and, except for a meager summary of their contents
by Reinesius in 1634 and a few brief extracts by Hoefer in his
“Histoire de la Chimie” in 1866, no efforts have been made to
give a rendering of their contents in any modern language.
A study of these poems has recently been made by the writer
and as they throw considerable light upon the history of Greek
science in its later days, the following commentary and trans-
lation of the poem of Theophrastos are given.

The four poems, which appear in the different collections
under the names of Heliodoros, Theophrastos, Hierotheos and
Archelaos, usually in the order given, resemble one another so
much in peculiarities of language and meter that they were
undoubtedly composed under similar influences. The resem-
blances are so striking that Reinesius regarded the poems as
the work of a single author and as nothing more than versifica-
tion of different parts of the long prose work of Stephanos, who
wrote in the reign of Emperor Heraclius (610 to 641 A.D.).
The imitations of Stephanos in style and language are unmis-

VOL. Xi.— 13. 193

194 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

takable and the poems must have been composed after his time.
The earliest collection of the poems, the Codex 299, in the li-
brary of St. Mark at Venice, is written in a hand of the eleventh
century. This codex refers again to a still earlier collection
that is lost. Without discussing further the interesting ques-
tions of authorship, we are probably safe in saying that the
poem of Theophrastos was composed by a Byzantine sophist
or schoolman some time between the years 700 and 900 A.D.
All four poems, in fact, celebrate the importance and learning
of these sophists, which term in the days of the Greek Empire
was one of honor and not of reproach. Theophrastos' begins
his poem with the following eulogy:

We sophists, and the rhetoricians too,

Are fortunate and lead a life most wise;

We know the nature of created things,

The kinds of elements, and understand

How, by close union each to each, they tend

To one new form, most fair and wholly strange,

With brilliant splendor filled, its make-up such

That it bestoweth wealth and great reward.

The union of the elements into a new wealth-bringing com-
bination has always been the one great aim of alchemy. Theo-
phrastos, however, in order to dispel the belief that he and his
fellow sophists were only worshipers of mammon, hastens to
add that their chief object in life was to train new converts in
the path of wisdom.

But most of all we wish with one accord

All mortals to be taught and disciplined

And trained in wisdom of the sophist school,
That they may shape themselves to perfect men,
That they may know the bounds of Nature’s realm,
(How all things thrive and mix and interweave)
And last that they may nothing speak except
What words the wise old masters used to say.
Those masters urge all mortals who are wise

To be instructed in the mystic lore

Of sacred rites, whose meaning they proclaim
By actions rather than by words of mouth.

His introduction finished, Theophrastos proceeds to give a
brief account of the skill of the sophists in the different sciences.
He begins most naturally with astrology, for the teachers of
that time were firm believers in the power of starry influences.

We, who foretell just where the stars shall be,
Who know their natures, heights and intervals,
Their occultations, when they rise and set,

1The Greek text, upon which the translations of Theophrastos and
other Byzantine alchemists in this paper are based, is that given in
Ideler’s “ Physici et Medici Grzeci minores,” Berlin, 1841.

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 195

Their measured bounds and what their orbs portend,
Do not misread their signs, though far away,

For when assisted by a knowing mind

Our sense of vision sees them as they are.

We know the truth of what is in the sky

Above and are not ignorant of what

Is there performed, for we perceive it all

And make it evident to mortal minds,

As their experience can testify.

Next in importance after astrology Theophrastos places
medicine. In the decadence of Greek science, astrology and
medicine were always linked together. The Perignostics of
Hermes Trismegistos give in great detail the influence of the
planets upon the courses of disease.

The most important branch of Byzantine medicine was
prognosis, which was elaborated to such a degree that physi-
cians professed to indicate sickness long before the patient felt
any of its symptoms. Copious treatises upon diagnosis have
come down from Byzantine writers, who describe with great
minuteness methods for examining the urine and feces, or for
determining the patient’s condition from the beatings of his
pulse. In the treatment of disease the regulation of diet played
a most important part and elaborate regimens were prescribed
for the sick for each season and month of the year.

Yet more than this, the causes we reveal
Of each affliction in the body’s frame;
Experimentally our school explores
The science, art and ends of medicine,
With such success that our prognosis shows
What sicknesses are destined to appear
And what is best to cure or ward them off;

Its findings also lead us to foretell
An end of life from sickness far from home.

Leaving medicine Theophrastos next briefly relates the in-
vestigations of the sophists in the vegetable, mineral and ani-
mal kingdoms.

Not only has our wisdom known the ways
By which to check each illness and disease,
—Prodigious wonders even though they be—
But with exactness we describe the flowers,
(Their qualities, their mixtures and their kinds),
And taste of juice and substances of plants.
Each class of growing herbs has been portrayed
For our prognosis and with words exact,

We also know the hues and kinds of stones,
The places where the metals are produced
And all their properties both good and bad.
The many kinds of creatures in the sea
Are known to us and all their many forms;
We teach mankind their natures, good and bad,

196 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

How some to use and others to avoid.

Nor do we slight the race of gay-hued birds,
Those strange in form and those who kill their kind,
Those who by nature are of use to man,
And so contribute to the joy of life.

Each class and race of reptiles we describe,
And so all living things find place within
Our catalogue. Nor have we falsified

In anything, for every word is true.

All we have said or shown to mortal men
Is for their use and happiness in life.

But the sophist’s career, which Theophrastos has thus far
painted in brightest color, was not one of unalloyed happiness.
Many of the prose writers among the Greek alchemists dwell
upon the opposition which was provoked by their ideas regard-
ing the transmutation of metals, but few of them are as bitter
in the denunciation of their critics as the poets. No better
example can be found than Theophrastos of that proverbial
sensitiveness which Horace states has always characterized the
fretful tribe of poets.

How then can those vile critics censure us,
They who in secret learning are inept,
And who in sophie wisdom have no share?
How can they say we sophists speak untruths
With their own minds so pitifully maimed
They give no thought or care to things divine?
They ask how gold is ever to be made,
How that can change which has a nature fixed,
Placed there of old by God the demiurge,
Who formed its substance never to be moved
From that position which from early time
Was its abode and destined resting place;
They say gold thus abides, nor suffers change,
For naught can be transmuted from the class
Or species where its origin took place.
They who speak thus but trifle with their minds
And nothing say that bears the stamp of truth.

The quarrel between the alchemists and their critics involved
the old question of the fixity or transmutability of genera and
species. It dated back to the time of Aristotle, who was the
first to make the distinction between a material cause and a
formal cause. The critics of alchemy insisted that matter was
unchangeable, that lead always remained lead as gold always
remained gold and that the gulf between these two metals was
an impassable one.

To the argument for the unchangeableness of matter the
alchemists gave complete assent. They replied to their critics:

We agree with you that matter is unchangeable, but you forget that
it is not matter which we seek to change but only the form in which this
matter is cast. The material substance or stock ( ¢’77) of lead, gold and

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 197

other things is one and unchangeable, and the object of our endeavor is
simply to pour the matter from the form of lead into the form which our
human perceptions recognize as gold. Just as an artist can take the
bronze of an ugly vessel and recast it into a beautiful vase. But if the
idea of transmutation seems so irrational, take the case of the sun. He is
always the same, yet by his movements along the ecliptic he produces the
change of seasons which pass from extreme cold to extreme heat and
from extreme moisture to extreme dryness.

The comparison of transmutation with the change of sea-
sons was a favorite one with the Greek alchemists, for it rested
upon one of those etymological subtilties which always appealed
to the Hellenic mind, the word tpern meaning both alteration
and season (originally solstice). This play upon words is fol-
lowed by Theophrastos.

But we will show the end of this our art,
An end most useful and most quickly learned,
For nothing strange it needs save that one stock
From which all things by Nature are produced.
From Time’s four transformations learn the way

By which the work most skilfully completes

The transformations of sophistic art.

The winter, cold and moist, controls the frost;

By him the fleeting clouds are borne on high

To drench the earth and quicken seeds to life;
Three months elapse before his time expires.

Next Spring, a season moist and warm comes in;
By her the earth is made to bloom with flowers
Of every kind; her course is also run

When three more months their transformation bring.
Next Summer, warm and very dry, appears;

By her Earth’s bosom is released from damp

And, warmed from chilliness, is made to bear;
Her period in three more months is run.

The Autumn quickly comes upon his way,

A season dry and cold in which alas

The beauty of the flowers is all destroyed;

His rapid course in three more months is passed.
Through these four transformations runs the sun;
’He makes his circuit in the dozen months

Which form the year and sheds his light on all
Beneath the sky. The splendor of his beams
Fills all the earth with mild increasing warmth;
With rapid course he summons things to life

And makes with gentle heat all trees to bud.
From him the moon receives her gleaming light
And all the wandering stars, the planets seven,
And likewise those whose shining orbs are fixed.

The argument of Theophrastos about the seasons is a brief
summary of that given in the fifth praxis of Stephanos, who
states that the four elements, earth, water, air, fire, in their
cycle of the year form twelve combinations of triads in four

198 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sets. There is thus one triad of elements for each month and
a set of three triads of similar elements for each season. The
arrangement of this cycle of elements is illustrated by the fol-
lowing diagram.

DIAGRAM OF THE YEAR'S CYCLE OF ELEMENTS (constructed from Stephanos).

The Elements Earth, Water, Air, Fire are represented by their initials E, W, A,
F’; the governing element of each season and month is in large letter. Fire is absent
in winter, Earth in spring, Water in summer, Air in autumn. Commencing on the
middle circle in Dec. Air goes to the outer circle for Jan., Feb., Mar., crosses in
April to the inner circle for May, June, and July and finishes again on the middle
circle in August. Then Water follows a similar path, to be succeeded by Earth,
the final interweaving circuit of the three rings being completed by Fire.

The quality Moist is common to winter and spring, Warm to spring and summer,
Dry to summer and autumn, Cold to autumn and winter.

Theophrastos, in the last line, expresses the belief, common in
ancient times, that the fixed stars, as well as the moon and
planets, received their light from the sun. As the production
of metals, precious stones, etc., within the earth was believed
by the ancient alchemists to be due to emanations from the
heavenly bodies and, as the light of the moon and planets was
received from the sun, the generation of the metals and pre-
cious stones could thus be referred to a single influence.

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 199

So understand the work, how to refer
The four mutations to one simple form
And from the four to make the work complete,
Seven colored, even as the planets seven,
Whence Nature gets her species, kinds and forms,
Whence Luna’s metal takes a whitened hue
And whence proceeds the yellow principle
(That gives a second splendid purple tint)
Which brightening all bodies tinges them
The brilliant golden color of the sun.

Theophrastos having outlined the theory of his art, next

takes up its practical execution. His description of the process
of gold-making, however, is so obscured by allegory that it is
a hopeless task to follow him without referring to the older
works. :
Transmutation, although described by the Greek alchemists
as a conversion of base metals into silver and gold, is every-
where designated as a process of coloring or tingeing. Several
methods of tingeing the base metals were employed, but only
two of these will be described.

The first method consisted in giving the metal a wash with
an amalgam of silver or gold. Upon heating the coated metal
the mercury was expelled and a thin film of silver or gold re-
mained. This receipt for silvering, or gilding, metallic objects
was an old one. It was a favorite with counterfeiters and was
one of the methods resorted to by the Roman Emperors when
they wished to debase the coinage. In the practical receipts
we find no suggestion of transmutation when this method was
used. It is only with the alchemists that the process acquired
an additional mystical interpretation. Mercury, which was
volatile, was a spiritualizing agent and the leaven, or seed, of
precious metal when placed therein had the power of transmut-
ing the baser metal into its own nature. This was illustrated
by the sayings.

Just as the yeast of bread can leaven a large mass of dough, so does
a little silver or gold act. He who sows wheat produces wheat and har-
vests it, in the same way gold produces gold and silver produces silver.

In the first method of tingeing metals the coloration took
place only upon the surface. In the second, and to the alchem-
ists the most important, method of tingeing the change in color
was effected throughout the whole body of metal. The earliest
writers drew a clear distinction between these two methods, the
Pseudo-Democritos being among the first to condemn those
who supposed that mercury should act only upon the surface.
The means by which the Greek alchemists claimed to transmute
the entire body of base metal into gold can only be understood
by going back to the oldest receipts.

200 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

When the Greeks under Ptolemy took possession of Egypt
they found in the temples a vast collection of practical receipts
which were jealously guarded by the Egyptian priests. These
ancient books, which formed a large collection of works upon
pharmacy, metallurgy and other arts, were ascribed by the
Egyptians to Thoth whom the Greeks identified with their god
Hermes. These books have all been lost with the exception of
one manuscript upon medicine, the so-called Ebers papyrus
written about 1500 B.C., which contains various pharmaceutical
and magical prescriptions for treating diseases. The mention
in this manuscript of such substances as copper, lead, iron,
stibium, asem (a gold-silver alloy), sulphur and soda and the
reference to such operations as roasting, cooking, melting, ex-
tracting and filtering shows that the early Egyptians were
familiar with the products and processes of practical chemis-
try. It is unfortunte that none of the Hermetic books upon
metallurgy have survived. Allusions to these books by Olympio-
doros and other Greek writers show, however, that the Egyptian
priests possessed a vast amount of information upon the smelt-
ing, alloying and coloring of metals. Translations of some of
these Hermetic receipts have no doubt been incorporated into
the collections of the Greek alchemists.

Although the ability to transform the base metals into silver
and gold was attributed to the Egyptians by the Greek alchem-
ists, we find no historical mention of this until about 290 A.D.
when the Roman Emperor Diocletian destroyed the books of
the Egyptians upon the chemistry of gold and silver. The in-
cident is thus commented upon by the historian Gibbon:

At the same time that Diocletian chastised the past crimes of the
Egyptians, he provided for their future safety and happiness by many
wise regulations, which were confirmed and enforced under the succeeding
reigns. One very remarkable edict which he published, instead of being
condemned as the effect of jealous tyranny, deserves to be applauded as
an act of prudence and humanity. He caused a diligent inquiry to be
made “for all the ancient books which treated of the admirable art of
making gold and silver, and without pity committed them to the flames;
apprehensive, as we are assured, lest the opulence of the Egyptians should
inspire them with confidence to rebel against the empire.” But if Diocle-
tian had been convinced of the reality of that valuable art, far from extin-
guishing the memory, he would have converted the operation of it to the
benefit of the public revenue. It is much more likely that his good sense
discovered to him the folly of such magnificent pretensions, and that he
was desirous of preserving the reason and fortunes of his subjects from
the mischievous pursuit. It may be remarked that these ancient books,
so liberaily ascribed to Pythagoras, to Solomon, or to Hermes, were the
pious frauds of more recent adepts. The Greeks were inattentive either
to the use or to the abuse of chemistry. In that immense register, where
Pliny has deposited the discoveries, the arts, and the errors of mankind,

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 201

there is not the least mention of the transmutation of metals; and the
persecution of Diocletian is the first authentic event in the history of
alchemy.

The question “if the Egyptians could make gold why did
Diocletian not avail himself of the knowledge?” has puzzled
many a writer. We know that the financial condition of the
Roman Empire at this time was a desperate one. The argen-
teus, of which sixty were originally coined from a pound of
silver, had, under succeeding Emperors, been continually de-
based. In the reign of Gallienus the argenteus consisted only
of base metal plated with silver. The final limit was reached
when it was made of copper and counterfeited to resemble
silver by a wash of tin.

Diocletian adopted heroic remedies to relieve the financial
condition of his empire by regulation of taxes, fixation of prices
and restoration of the silver coinage. From the information
contained in papyri, that have recently been published, we now
know that Diocletian’s destruction of the chemical treatises of
the Egyptians was directly in line with these reforms. Coun-
terfeiting had reached a higher state of perfection in Egypt
than in any other part of the Roman Empire and when the
practical-minded Emperor discovered that the chemical books
of the Egyptians gave detailed information for imitating silver
and gold he very properly burned these treatises as one of the
causes of the Empire’s financial troubles. Stringent measures
were taken to enforce these regulations and the counterfeiters,
who previously worked in the open, were now compelled to
labor in secret. Their practical knowledge of the art was re-
written in an obscure enigmatic language which if discovered
would deceive the military inspectors. This obscurity was
still further enhanced by the decline of the metallurgic arts and
the influence of Greek, Jewish and Gnostic mysticism, until
what in the older days was bluntly admitted by the practicians
to be a fraud was now acclaimed by the speculative mystics to
be a transmutation.

This view of the origin of alchemy which was advanced by
Berthelot* has been amply confirmed by the publication in re-

1“Tt was thus that the workmen, accustomed to compound alloys re-
sembling gold and silver with such perfection that at times they deceived
even themselves, ended by believing in the possibility of an actual creation
of these metals.” (Berthelot, Alchemistes Grecs, Introd., p. 73.) The
Upsala papyrus was not published until 1913 (Papyrus Grecus Holmiensis,
Upsala A. B. Akademiska Bokhandeln). Could Berthelot, who saw the
great importance of the Leyden papyrus, have only lived to read the
Upsala papyrus, he would have seen the most complete verification of his
views. Lagercrantz, in his scholarly edition of the Upsala papyrus, dis-
cusses the whole question exhaustively and adopts the same view of the

202 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cent years of two Greek papyri belonging to libraries in Leyden
and Upsala. These papyri, which have been described as twin-
brothers, were discovered in Egypt nearly a century ago by
natives, while engaged in the plunder of tombs, but it is only
lately that their contents have been made known. The two
documents consist of over 250 receipts for purifying and treat-
ing metals, for preparing alloys, for counterfeiting gold and
silver, for imitating pearls, emeralds, sapphires and other pre-
cious stones and for preparing colors and dyes. Only a few of
the receipts for counterfeiting gold and silver will be quoted.

To adulterate gold (xpvcot 5é\0s). An equal part of misy and Sinopic
rouge to an equal part of gold. Put the gold in a furnace and when it
is bright add each of the other ingredients. Take out and let cool when
the quantity of gold is doubled. (Leyden papyrus, Rec. 17.)

To make silver (apytpou rolnois). Clean white soft tin four times, melt
six parts of the same with one mina of white Galatian copper. It becomes
prime silver that will deceive even skilled workmen who will not suppose
it to be made by such a treatment. (Upsala papyrus, Ree. 3.)

Another receipt. Add six parts of purified tin and seven parts of
Galatian copper to four parts of silver and the resulting product will pass
unnoticed for silver bullion. (Upsala papyrus, Rec. 4.)

The receipts just quoted are all manifestly fraudulent as
they are stated to be in the directions. One other receipt for
making silver has an interesting significance, as it makes use
of mercury, the spiritualizing medium of the later alchemists.

To make silver. Purchase coals such as the coppersmiths use and
steep them in vinegar for one day. Then take one ounce of copper, fix
it well with alum and melt in this condition. Then take eight ounces of
mercury and empty the same into poppy extract. Take also one ounce of
silver and, having incorporated these ingredients together, melt. (Upsala
papyrus, Rec. 8.)

The Leyden and Upsala papyri were written apparently
towards the close of the third century and are to be regarded as
prototypes of the later alchemical receipts, the earliest manu-
script of which dates back to the eleventh century. The con-
nection of the two classes of documents with one another is
unmistakable. The papyri refer to Democritos and Aphri-
kanos, who are mentioned repeatedly by the alchemists. Many

fraudulent origins of alchemy. “The Egyptian priests are therefore to
be regarded as the oldest representatives of the art of adulterating gold,
silver, precious stones and purple. Since the preservation of receipt books
in the temples is expressly mentioned, then in all probability we should
regard these places also as workshops for counterfeiting. If any one
should think such a calling not to conform exactly with the virtues of
priesthood, we would reply by saying that we should not entertain too
exaggerated ideas of the morality of this profession. Moreover an out-
ward show of uprightness could easily be given to operations from which
the public at large was naturally excluded.”

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 203

of the receipts in the two collections are identical and the occur-
rence of the term an inexhaustible cake (avé«Xevrtos wafa) of
metal in both the papyri and the alchemists shows a certain
community of origin.

The two papyri no doubt belong to the class of chemical
books which Diocletian destroyed, the accident of burial, or
concealment, having secured their preservation. They offer
a good illustration of the practical receipts of the Egyptians
before they were obscured by the allegorical interpretations of
later mystics.

Under Christian influences this allegorizing tendency was
further accentuated. Thetechnicalterm for coloring is Barve,
to dip, and the close resemblance of this word to its cognate,
Banrrifev, to baptize, conveyed a spirit meaning of the process
to the Christian alchemists of the Byzantine era. Allusions to
the New Testament became frequent. Chemical processes are
represented under such terms as baptism, bodily death and
resurrection, while the whole language is permeated with mys-
tical expressions. Each metal, the same as man, becomes en-
dowed with the triple hypostacy of body, soul and spirit. “The
aim of our philosophy,” writes Stephanos, “is the separation
of soul and body.” Divest lead or copper of its soul and spirit,
endow the resulting body with a soul and spirit of a higher type
and the result is gold. The change from the black of lead or
the red of copper to the yellow of gold could not, however, be
accomplished directly. The base metal must first be brought
to the whiteness of silver before projection of the stone can
produce gold. This is indicated in the lines of Theophrastos:

The white, augmented thrice within a fire,
In three day’s time is altogether changed
To lasting yellow and this yellow then
Will give its hue to every whitened form.
This power to tinge and shape produces gold
And thus a wondrous marvel is revealed.

The great agent of transmutation was the stone. “It is
found,” said Avicenna, “in the dirt of streets and is trodden
under foot by men.” The Greek alchemists were no less ex-
plicit. “It can not be bought with gold,” said an unknown
prose writer, “yet God has given it freely to beggars.” Zosi-
mos, a Greek of Panopolis, described it as ‘“‘a stone yet not a
stone, a thing despised yet full of honor, of many forms yet
shapeless, a thing unknown yet familiar to all, of many names
yet nameless.” The description of Theophrastos is equally
obscure.

204 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Though not a stone, it yet is made a stone
From metal, having three hypostases,
For which the stone is prized and widely known;
Yet all the ignorant search everywhere
As though the prize were not close by at hand.
Deprived of honor yet the stone is found
To have within a sacred mystery,
A treasure hidden and yet free to all.

The symbol of chemical change from the earliest days of
alchemy has been the fiery dragon or salamander. In the form
of a dragon devouring its tail and bearing the mystical motto
of three words and seven letters, €v to wav, ‘‘ The All is One,” it
was used by the Greek alchemists to typify the unity of matter.
It was the symbol of the never-ending cycle of the elements;
the appearance of matter is always changing, yet its substance
is eternally one and the same.

The first step in the process of transmutation, the process
of albifaction (Aevewors) or conversion of the base metal into
silver, is thus described by Theophrastos under the symbol of
the dragon.

A dragon springs therefrom which, when exposed
In horse’s excrement for twenty days,
Devours his tail till naught thereof remains.
This dragon, whom they Ouroboros call,
Is white in looks and spotted in his skin,
And has a form and shape most strange to see.
When he was born he sprang from out the warm
And humid substance of united things.
The close embrace of male and female kind,
—A union which occurred within the sea—
Brought forth this dragon, as already said;
A monster scorching all the earth with fire,
With all his might and panoply displayed,
He swims and comes unto a place within
The currents of the Nile; his gleaming skin
And all the bands which girdle him around
Are bright as gold and shine with points of light,

This dragon seize and slay with skillful art
Within the sea, and wield with speed thy knife
With double edges hot and moist, and then,
His carcass having cleft in twain, lift out
The gall and bear away its blackened form,
All heavy with the weight of earthy bile;
Great clouds of steaming mist ascend therefrom
And these become on rising dense enough
To bear away the dragon from the sea
And lift him upward to a station warm,
The moisture of the air his lightened shape
And form sustaining; be most careful then
All burning of his substance to avoid
And change its nature to a stream divine

QT

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 20:

With quenching draughts; then pour the mercury
Into a gaping urn and when its stream
Of sacred fluid stops to flow, then wash
Away with care the blackened dross of earth.
Thus having brightened what the darkness hid
Within the dragon’s entrails thou wilt bring
A mystery unspeakable to light;
For it will shine exceeding bright and clear,
And, being tinged a perfect white throughout,
Will be revealed with wondrous brilliancy,
Its blackness having all been changed to white;
For when the cloud-sent water flows thereon
It cleanses every dark and earthy stain.

Thus he doth easily release himself
By drinking nectar, though completely dead;
He poureth out to mortals all his wealth
And by his help the Earth-born are sustained
Abundantly in life, when they have found
The wondrous mystery, which, being fixed
Will turn to silver, dazzling bright in kind,
A metal having naught of earthy taint,
So brilliant, clear and wonderfully white.

With the help of the practical receipts and early prose treat-
ises upon alchemy we are able to form some idea of the opera-
tions thus described.

It was recognized by the very earliest writers upon alchemy
that the two important conditions necessary for promoting
material change were heat and liquidity. Solution of the in-
teracting substances was first necessary and to effect this solu-
tion heat and a liquid solvent were required. “Corpora non
agunt nisi soluta” was a tenet of the medieval alchemists,
an expression which was simply borrowed from the avadvcepeva
mavta épyavera of the Greeks. When Theophrastos states, there-
fore, that the dragon is born from ‘‘ warm and humid sub-
stance” and is to be slain in turn by a “knife with double edges
hot and moist,” we are simply to infer that the ingredients of
his preparation are to be acted upon by some liquid through
the agency of heat. The ingredients in this case, as in receipt
No. 8 of the Upsala papyrus, are copper and silver and the act-
ing liquid, as in the same receipt, is mercury.

Theophrastos describes his ingredients as male and female,
a method of appellation common to the alchemists, who classi-
fied nearly all their substances under the one or the other of
these terms. One very important male ingredient, used for
the white coloration of copper, was arsenic, the word apcemxdv
in Greek meaning either arsenic or masculine. The connection
of gender, however, is not always so apparent as this. An-
other means of differentiation was based upon the gender of

206 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the word, planet or deity representing the substance. Thus
lead and gold are always masculine whether represented under
the common names poruvSdes and xpuocs or under the planetary
names Kpovos and“Hiwos. Copper and silver, on the other hand,
are masculine under the common names yad«os and apyupos, femi-
nine under the planetary names ’A¢gpoditn and Ledjvn. Copper,
however, is stated by nearly all the alchemists to be a man,
while silver is constantly referred to as copper’s bride, the
union of the two being symbolized as a marriage.

The mystical marriage of copper to silver was not accom-
plished, however, by melting. The fusing together of copper
and silver into the alloy was recognized by the alchemists as a
blending (xpaovs) and not as a uniting (€vwo.s). For the actual
union of two opposites Greek philosophic ideas required the
action of an intermediary which shared the qualities of the two
elements or substances. The old alchemists dwell constantly
upon the necessity of this. Fire, for example, is warm and
dry, while water is moist and cold. These two opposites are
joined by the intermediary action of air which is warm and
moist.

The intermediary agent employed in the union of copper to
silver was mercury, which in some of its attributes shared the
qualities of both these metals. For example, mercury in color
resembled silver, while its oxide in color resembled copper.
But the point upon which the alchemists placed most stress was
the intermediary influence of gender, mercury being both male
and female. In the Upsala papyrus we find the masculine
form o tdpapyvpos in the eighth receipt and the feminine form
n vdpapyvpos in the seventeenth. ‘The same difference in gender
is also observed in other technical treatises. The classic Greek
writers used the masculine form, but most of the alchemists
employed the feminine, although recognizing the distinction of
double gender. Zosimos, for example, in one of his allusions
to mercury says ‘“‘ it is the silvery water, the masculine-feminine
(To apoevoOnrv) , that which is always running away and yet has-
tening unto its own.”

The union of copper and silver is referred to by Theo-
phrastos as taking place within the sea, the latter being a com-
mon term for the liquid metal mercury. The amalgamation is
hastened by warming the vessel containing the ingredients in
fermenting horse dung for twenty days. At the end of this
time all traces of metal have been dissolved by the mercury, or
as Theophrastos says the dragon “devours his tail till naught
thereof remains.”

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 207

The mixed amalgam of copper and silver, which according
to Theophrastos was a speckled white, was next transferred to
some form of Egyptian alembic, such as were made at Alex-
andria, an operation alluded to by saying that the dragon
“comes unto a place within the currents of the Nile.” The
mixture is then heated over a gentle fire until the mercury is
distilled away, this part of the operation being indicated by
such terms as slaying the dragon “ with skillful art within the
sea,” “Clouds of steaming mist ascend therefrom and these
become on rising dense enough to bear away the dragon from
the sea,” etc. The vapors are condensed in the head of the
alembic, “‘its nature changed into a stream divine,” after which
the liquid mercury is poured out into a recipient. Theophrastos
here for the first time banishes allegory and calls mercury by
its actual name, the sign of the waxing crescent being affixed
to remove all doubt of his meaning.

During the distillation of the mercury a dross of black oxide
gathered on the surface of the melted contents of the alembic,
a phenomenon alluded to as the lifting out of the gall, and the
removal of “its blackened form all heavy with the weight of
earthy bile.” The final flashing of the melted metal under the
scum of oxide, which Theophrastos mentions under such terms
as brightening “what the darkness hid within the dragon’s en-
trails,” is, according to Hoefer, exactly what the metallurgist
to-day observes in the cupellation of silver.

The mass of metal in the alembic is then cooled and scrubbed
with running water which “cleanses every dark and earthy
stain.” The silver-copper alloy thus obtained is described by
Theophrastos as “silver dazzling bright in kind, a metal having
naught of earthy taint.”

The transmutation of copper to silver by the above process
is described by many of the Greek alchemists as a combat or
battle in which the male contestant copper is completely van-
quished by the female victor silver.

Stephanos in his fourth praxis exclaims:

Fight copper! Fight silver! Join male and female! The copper in
his contest with silver is destroyed; the silver by her combination with
copper is fixed. Destroy the body of copper and make it incorporeal by
means of silver.

So also Archelaos in his poem causes the soul of copper to
address its lifeless body:

Thou dost not wait the female joined to thee

In wedlock as desired. Thou dost not check

The clash of female conflict but decay
Awaits thy bloom from her.

208 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It is seen from this that Mr. Kipling was not the first poet
to declare, ‘‘ The female of the species is more deadly than the
male.”

The first step of transmutation, the albifaction or Aevewous
having been accomplished, there only remains the final step, the
yellowing or favOwo.s, by means of which the silver is trans-
formed to gold. This part of the process is described by Theo-
phrastos as the second slaying of the dragon.

Then seize again this dragon changed to white
(A change divinely wrought, as I have said,
By means of albifaction twice performed)
And slaying him again with knife of fire
Draw all his blood which gushes blazing hot
And red as shining flame when it ignites.
Then dip the dragon’s skin into the blood
Which issued from his belly’s gory wound
(As thou wouldst dip a whitened robe in dye
Of murex purple) ; so wilt thou obtain

A brilliant glory, shining as the sun,

Of goodly form and gladdening the heart

Of mortals who behold its excellence.

This second slaying of the dragon is accomplished by heat
alone, the agency of liquid mercury not being required. The
weapon this time is ‘‘a hot knife of fire” in place of the “knife
with double edges hot and moist” previously employed. The
metal from the first transmutation is accordingly re-melted
over a hot fire preparatory to the addition of the stone, or
powder of projection, by means of which the conversion of the
silver to gold is to be accomplished. This is done by drawing
off the melted metal, which Theophrastos calls the blood of the
dragon, and stirring into it the powder of projection, an opera-
tion which is poetically described as dipping ‘‘ the dragon’s skin
into the blood.”

The composition of this “ dragon’s skin,” or stone, or powder
of projection, was the chief subject of investigation by the
medieval alchemists, who wrote countless treatises upon the
subject. Without discussing any of the medieval receipts it
may be said that reference to the oldest writings indicates that
the so-called stone was originally a yellow powder composed of
such ingredients as copper, cuprous oxide, cinnabar, litharge,
yellow arsenic or orpiment, misy (a copper-containing pyrites),
sory (basic sulphate of iron), sulphur, and other substances
whose yellow color might be a recommendation. A certain
amount of gold was also probably included to act as a seed or
leaven.

In a receipt, previously quoted from the Leyden papyrus for
adulterating gold, misy and Sinopic rouge are mentioned as

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 209

ingredients to be added to the gold and we have here probably
a germ of the later powders of projection.

A somewhat fuller receipt is given in the Pseudo-Democritos :

Lighten the color of cinnabar by means of oil, vinegar, honey, brine
or alum; then make it yellow by means of misy, sory, flower of copper,
nature sulphur, or in any way desired. Project this upon silver and it
will be gold.

A considerable latitude is given in these directions, as is in-
dicated by the expression, “or in any way desired.” The rigid
exactness of the medieval alchemists, who permitted not the
slightest deviation in character or quantity of the ingredients,
is not as yet apparent.

Two very important substances, used by the Greek alchemists
in projections, were the so-called molybdochale (woAvSdcyadxos)
and aphroselen (a¢pocéAnvov). Owing to the very inexact no-
menclature of the times, these words were given to a variety of
products, although the terms seem most generally applied to
the oxidation products obtained in refining lead-copper and
copper-silver ores. The waste dust of the lead, copper and
silver smelting works was especially prized by the old alchem-
ists. This dust, described under such names as cadmia, tutia,
magnesia, tephra, pompholyx, little scoriz, etc., fulfilled the
mystical requirements of the stone, “being a product of many
names, of no value, found in the dust of streets and trodden
under foot by men.” The incorporation of metallic oxides into
the tinctorial powder or stone is alluded to by Theophrastos
where he says “‘ though not a stone, it yet is made a stone from
metal.”

The substances entering into the tinctorial powder were
obtained in many cases by subjecting the metals themselves to
a process of corrosion (iwo.s). The directions for preparing
molybdochale according to a receipt of the Pseudo-Democritos
were to heat white lead, or litharge, with flower of copper, or
roasted copper, or treated copper-rust until the mixture became
yellow. The manufacture of some of these ingredients, ac-
cording to accounts given in Dioscorides and Pliny, will be
briefly described.

White Lead (Greek, WiuvGiov; Latin, cerussa) was made as
follows: plates of lead were put into jars containing vinegar
and kept closed for ten days. The corrosion that formed upon
the surface of the metal was then scraped off and the lead put
into the vinegar again. The process of corroding and scra-
ping was continued until the whole of the lead was consumed.
The scrapings were powdered, sifted, and dried in the sun.
The method thus described is about the same as the modern

VOL. x1.—14.

210 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Dutch process for making white lead. The white lead obtained
was used as such, or else was heated in shallow pans until it
was converted into the yellow or red oxides. These changes of
color from the black of lead to the white of the basic carbonate
and to the yellow of the oxides were of especial significance to
the alchemists, for they followed the traditional order which
base metals should follow in their conversion to silver and gold.

Flower of Copper (Greek, yaX«od avOos; Latin, eris flos) was
made in several ways. In one method the fused metal was ex-
posed to a blast of air which caused the surface to peel off in
small scales. In another method the scales were formed by
drenching the hot metal with water. The scales, after being
powdered, had a reddish-yellow color and consisted of a mix-
ture of metallic copper and cuprous oxide.

Roasted copper (Greek, yadxos xexavpeévos; Latin, zs ustum)
was made by heating copper in closed vessels with various sub-
stances, such as sulphur, salt, alum, and vinegar. The calcined
residue was then powdered in a mortar, washed and sifted. It
consisted of a reddish-yellow powder and had a composition
resembling that of flower of copper.

Copper rust (Greek, tos; Latin, erugo) or verdigris was
made by sprinkling vinegar upon copper filings or by putting
plates of copper into earthern pots containing vinegar and
scraping them every ten days. The scraped rust referred to
in the receipt of Pseudo-Democritos was not used directly in
making the powder of projection, but was treated, a process
which, from a description of Dioscorides, probably consisted
in heating the verdigris in a closed vessel until the basic acetate
was changed into a red suboxide of copper.

The scraping of the corrosion or oxide from the metal plates,
mentioned in these processes, is the operation described by
Theophrastos and other alchemists as “skimming the dragon,”
the figurative skin, which was removed, forming the basis of
the older powders of projection.

The action of the “dragon’s skin,” or stone or powder of
projection, upon the silver-copper alloy of the first treatment
would simply be to increase the copper content of this alloy
and give it a golden color. The seed of gold and unchanged
copper in the preparation would of course be readily taken up.
The suboxide of copper has also a certain solubility in melted
alloys of this kind and would help to impart a red or yellowish
tint to the resultant mass of metal. Any unabsorbed ingre-
dients, such as sulphur, orpiment, cinnabar, litharge, etc.,
would be either colatilized or thrown out as dross. The fused
alloy after drawing off and casting probably had a yellow color

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 211

much like that of gold. It might possibly “‘escape detection by
skillmen workmen,” to use the unsophisticated language of the
old receipts, and to the credulous-minded alchemists, who had
forgotten the old Archimedean method for determining the
purity of metals, might easily pass for gold so pure that even
“the treasuries of kings did not possess the like.”

A final question, which remains to be considered, is the
quantity of tinctorial powder that was used for projection. In
the Leyden papyrus the receipt for adulterating gold prescribed
“an equal part of misy and Sinopic rouge,” and we can infer
from other practical receipts that the amount of material used
in the early days for tingeing metals the color of gold was con-
siderable. In one Greek manuscript the directions state: “‘ As
to the weight of the projection, in the first operation one weight
is projected into one weight; in the second one weight into a
thousand weights; in the third one weight into a million
weights.” We know from the old writings that the process of
projection was frequently repeated and with each repetition of
the process the quantity of powder was diminished.

When the old practical receipts became permeated with mys-
ticism, the idea of a seed or leaven, which could transform an
almost unlimited amount of base metal, got the upper hand.
The quantity of powder was reduced until in the middle ages
it was held that one grain of powder could transmute whole
oceans of base metal into gold. By thus diminishing the quan-
tity of powder the coloration produced by the older methods of
projection was no longer obtained and the composition of the
powder was held to be lost.

The subject of alchemy offered the Byzantine schoolmen a
convenient theme for the exercise of rhetorical flourishes and
Theophrastos next proceeds in a kind of litany to tell how the
fortunate ones, who have been enriched by alchemy, express
their appreciation.

They praise the gift with wise and joyous words
As one divinely sent and great in worth;
And thus they speak and voice their thankfulness.
work divine, well-pleasing and concise!
beauty brilliant with an aspect clear!
marriage and conjunction most renowned!
husband in a single union joined!

O
O
O
O wife united by affection deep!

O offspring famous and with glory filled!
O

O

O

O

O

o)

progeny of splendor, light and worth!
robe with gold and silver overlaid!
double-folded mantle bright as snow!
metal which with gleaming silver teems!
clear refreshing river of the sea!

212 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

water than the loosened earth more free!
ether rising far above the earth!
clouds transformed from blackness into white!
brilliant colored glory of the heaven!
light which shines to all beneath the sky!
system and bright circuit of the stars!
lunar light reflected from the sun!
sun whose darting beams engender gold!
From these the work of every sage begins
To reap in practise some deserving end;
In thee appears the object of our search;
Thou shinest scattering thy wondrous light,
A treasure most desired, all filled with pearls;
And bringing gain and wealth to mortal men.

This rhapsody, which repeats in gorgeous rhetoric the vari-
ous steps of transmutation, seems somewhat overdrawn, yet
Theophrastos in the use of exclamation is mild when compared
with Stephanos, who in page after page of his prose treatise
upon the sacred art lets flow a muddy stream of bombastic
Greek. The science of the early Alexandrians had so far de-
generated in the days of the Byzantines that it was made a
theme for rhetoricians while the ancient clarity and concise-
ness, which made the scientific writings of Hippocrates and
Archimedes models of expression, had now given way to delib-
erate obscurity of thought and to the empty jingling of an in-
flated style.

The alchemical poets conclude their verses with reflections
of a moral and religious nature. This also was in general
keeping with the custom of Stephanos and other Byzantine
writers whose treatises usually began and ended with a prayer.
Theophrastos simply followed the usage of his time and con-
cluded his poem as follows:

Who, then, beholding the great universe
Which Thou hast wisely wrought,—a well-designed
Production, made with singleness of art,

And faith inspiring in its glorious works—
Entranced with wonder would not be amazed?
He would extoll the boundless providence

Of reason’s God and praise the sympathy
Which He, in ways both wise and manifold,
To us declares. As Lord beneficent

He wishes all mankind a happy life

And wealth by their activities to gain.

Then let us shape life’s course with reverence
And cherish piety’s clear beacon light,
Our pathways brightening with godly deeds,

Our neighbor loving and the foreign guest;
And day and night with supplicating prayers
Our adoration pay, as servants wise,

To God the Lord, all-seeing King of all,

(S\ej(oy"eylevs\To\(~,

THE PHILOSOPHER THEOPHRASTOS 213

Forgiveness asking for our trespasses

And that all kin from danger may be spared
And from temptations freed, as they arise;
And let us never undertake a work

Unless we give the praise therefor to God,
The Father, who begot the only Son,

The Son, the holy Word from God produced,
The Holy Ghost, proceeding too from Him,
Both now and always evermore. Amen.

This ending in orthodox Greek fashion is typical and re-
fiects in a measure the ecclesiastical mania of the times, which
found its expression in liturgies, ceremonies and the other ac-
companiments of an extravagant ritual. The doctrine of the
Procession of the Holy Ghost from the first person of the
Trinity, contained in the next to the last line, shows that the
poem was composed after the Council of Chalkedon in 451, and
so could not have been written before this date as some have
supposed. The same doctrine is promulgated in Stephanos to
the disgust of Reinesius who, however much he admired the
opinions of this writer on the subject of transmutation, could
not uphold him in this.

The moral admonitions contained in Theophrastos and the
other Greek alchemists were not, however, entirely the result
of ecclesiastical influences. As the mystical doctrines of the
alchemists gained ground the transmutation of the base metals
into gold began to be regarded as a symbol of the transfor-
mation of man’s own lower nature into something nobler and
higher. The comparison of the nature of man with that of the
metals was used, in fact, by Greek writers of the earlier Alex-
andrian period. Plotinos writes: “As gold is contaminated by
the adherence of earthy dross, so is the soul corrupted by its
union with the body.” Hierocles makes a similar comparison
in his commentary upon the Golden Verses of Pythagoras,
where he says, ‘Gold is symbolic of virtue because it never
corrodes while the baser metals gather rust which is typical of
the vice that arises from material contaminations.”’

An example of the extension of this comparison, after the
belief in transmutation had gained currency, is found in a frag-
ment of so-called political verse, attributed to John of Damas-
cus, who lived between 700 and 754. The poem, in which the
lines occur, was called the Dioptra and gives a dialogue between
the soul and body. The body mentions the unapproachableness
of the state of man to that of God, but the soul in reply ex-
presses the possibility of transforming man’s condition by the
following comparison:

214 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It is as if when lead and gold are banished far asunder

A distance from each other’s home, a distance wide are parted,

A certain craftsman then should come, who wished to show his cunning,
The operation of his art and scientific knowledge,

Should take this lead and melting it within his blazing furnace

Should show the same transformed to gold of quality the finest.

And this is surely wonderful and strange beyond believing

That what was never gold before, now gold becomes at present,

What was not gold has gold become, though not so at commencing.

O great display of excellence! O great display of reason!

The alchemists, who were always immoderate in their use
of symbols, finally carried this comparison to its ultimate ex-
treme with the result that the symbol became of paramount
importance, while the act of material transmutation sank into
insignificance. Stephanos, the chief Byzantine writer upon the
sacred art, makes the following digression towards the close of
his eighth praxis :—

From the objects of sense perception pass over now to those sights
which are perceived by the mind. Behold the great order and imma-
terial splendor of the heavenly bodies. When thou hast seen the beauty
of these, lift up thy mind beyond and noting the resplendent glory and
great joy of the angels do not hereafter be led astray with respect to the
material transformation of this earthy substance, of that which is sought
after by the hand and revealed by the philosophy of gold-making.

It is not surprising, therefore, that certain writers upon the
subject should hold that all the old treatises upon alchemy are
simply moral and religious allegories and that the gold, “such
as was not found in the treasuries of kings,” was of a heavenly,
and not of an earthy, kind. An American writer, Ethan A.
Hitchcock, was the first to advance this view in 1857 in an
anonymous book of some three hundred pages. The same opin-
ion in a modified form is also held by the well-known English
writer, A. E. Waite, best known for his scholarly edition of
Paracelsus.

The theory, however, that ancient alchemy was a moral
allegory and nothing more carries with it its own refutation,
for if we accept it as true we must also admit that there was a
strong contemporary belief in the actuality of transmutation,
otherwise the symbol and allegory would have had no meaning.

It was a strange reversal of ideas that the so-called sacred
art, which originated in the fraudulent practises of Egyptian
counterfeiters, should have afterwards developed into a means
for the inculcation of virtue and religion.

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 215

THE ECONOMIC PROBLEM OF THE OZARK
HIGHLAND

By Professor CARL O. SAUER

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

HE term Ozark associates a group of regions possessed of
i: 9 widely divergent characteristics. Simplicity and simi-
larity are hardly more representative of the Ozark areas than
they are of the regions grouped together under the term Appa-
lachian. In the Missouri Ozarks eight distinct divisions must
be recognized, and for Arkansas at least two more are to be
added. It becomes a matter of more than ordinary difficulty
therefore to speak of conditions and problems in the Ozark
Highland as a whole. Yet there must be an adequate geo-
graphic unity, otherwise popular usage, unbiased in this case
by common political traditions, would not have set up this
regional designation.'

(1) The Ozark areas constitute a compact highland, for the
most part notably elevated above the adjacent areas. This is
the common factor in the topography and for this reason no
more precise term than highland can be employed appropriately
in a geographic sense. In the interior the highland consists
of a remnant plateau area, broken into long shreds by stream
dissection. Except on the west, hill belts, of very difficult char-
acter, surround the central region. The outer flanks of the
hill regions, with the exception of the southern and south-
eastern portions of the highland, are adjoined by less rough
border areas of superior resources and development. (2) Even
in the Ozark areas of least relief there is more rough land than
in adjacent regions which usage does not place in the highland.
(3) Ridges and valleys are sharply differentiated. The topog-
raphy is dominantly of the ridge-and-valley type. (4) Most of
the area has been sculptured out of limestone by streams with
the abundant aid of underground solution. A close genetic
relationship exists between the widely distributed sinks,
caverns, springs, and the lead ore, iron ore, and other mineral

1 The differentiating characteristics of the several parts of the high-
land and their economic effects are considered in detail in the volume by

the author, “The Geography of the Ozark Highland of Missouri,” pub-
lished as Bulletin 7 of the Geographic Society of Chicago (1920).

215

216 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

deposits. (5) A significant property of the Ozarks is the
almost universal distribution of chert fragments over the sur-
face. These produce similar effects on slopes, soils, stream
beds, and on agricultural practises and roadmaking. Such in
the main are the common qualities that are opposed to the
multitude of differentiating conditions.

In the following pages the attempt is made to determine
whether there exists also a common economic problem for the
area as a whole. The inquiry is concerned chiefly with the
heart of the Ozarks, namely, with the central plateau and its
surrounding hill areas. Just as popular usage is uncertain
regarding the inclusion of the border areas in the highland,
so the economic conditions of the borders are only in limited
degree typical of the area as a whole and the generalizations
that follow can be applied to such regions as the Springfield,
Missouri River, and Mississippi River borders only with im-
portant reservations and exceptions.

The most common conception current regarding the eco-
nomic character of the Ozark region is its inferiority to the
regions that lie about it. The idea is substantially correct and
may be demonstrated statistically in many ways by the values
and amounts of crops and of other products which the area
yields.2, These facts appear to register the adjustment of a
group to an inferior environment. This is true in part, but
it does not fully account for the economic situation. There
still remains to be considered the question whether the Ozarks
are underdeveloped relative to such resources as are available
under present economic conditions. In particular it is neces-
sary to inquire whether the economic adjustment is to the
present or to a previous value of the environment, for the
environment is not necessarily a static factor uninfluenced by
the passage of time and the changes in opportunities of pro-
duction. The case to be examined concerns the possibility of
an original adjustment which has since been revised insuffi-
ciently, with the result that the Ozark Highland has fallen
behind seriously in the progress that may be expected of it,
making all due allowances for thin soils, steep slopes and other
handicaps.

When settlement west of the Mississippi River began, the
flanks of the Ozarks were preferred to all other territory in
upper Louisiana. This preference continued beyond the time
when Missouri and Arkansas were admitted to statehood, and

2For illustrations see volume op. cit.

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 217

was based on the variety and balance of the local resources
rather than on the large amount of any one resource. It was
the possibility of sufficiency and especially of self-sufficiency
that caused to be located in this area the first American settle-
ments west of the Mississippi. When transportation facilities
made commercial production possible in the West, farm immi-
gration was diverted to other areas. The true pioneersman,
however, not intent on producing a surplus of crops for sale,
was able to occupy step by step the whole of the Ozarks, con-
scious of no deterioration of his environment as he penetrated
into areas of longer and steeper hills. For was there not
everywhere good hunting and fishing, excellent water, grazing
for his horses and cattle, mast for the hogs, and patches of
bottom land for corn, beans and pumpkins? Here he could
meet his own needs of lead and gunpowder, dig his iron ore
and smelt it, and have ample power for his grist and carding
mills. Frontiersmen, rather than agriculturists, became the
permanent occupants of the area. With the filling up of ad-
jacent regions, the Ozarks became a sort of refuge to the men
who clung to frontier life. After a fashion the frontier still
lingers in the Ozarks, but the unconstructive character of
frontier living and the increase of population have gradually
caused the disappearance of some of the more agreeable
features of this life. For an understanding of the area it is
essential to keep in mind its antecedents, and also that the
blood of the frontiersman is still dominant among the popu-
lation.

At present, the Ozarks contain somewhat less than thirty
per cent. of the population of Missouri, resident on approxi-
mately half the area of the state. Since a full third of the
people of Missouri live in St. Louis and Kansas City, the
population of the Ozarks is nearly of the same density as in
the rest of rural Missouri. The situation in Arkansas is simi-
lar. Whereas immigrants have not been numerous, serious
loss by emigration began later than in other near-by rural
districts. Population had not increased to the limit for the
food supply under the methods of production practised, and the
world outside was little known. The last census, in 1910. was
the first to record declining numbers over widespread areas.
In the beginning of the new century, rural free delivery of
mail became generally established and a serious blow was
dealt thereby to the old isolation that had kept people at home.
The effects of the late war probably will be even more far-
reaching. In 1917 the government placarded the most remote

218 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

post-offices with calls for workers in war industries and offered
the opportunity of rendering a service to the nation and of
securing wages of a magnitude unheard of in this country
where wages for the most part have been nominal. Large
numbers left for the cities of Illinois and northern Missouri
and for the mining and oil fields. The draft took thousands of
young men away from home for the first time, and introduced
them to new standards and modes of life. Many are not re-
turning. The great prosperity that is continuing through the
country has found only a weak echo in the hills of the Ozarks
and additional workers are still leaving to share in the high
wages outside. The past five years, therefore, have seen a
critical increase in the emigration. The old contentment with
the simple home in the hills was based in part on a lack of
knowledge of outside conditions. A world catastrophe has
supplied this knowledge. The selective elimination of the more
ambitious of the younger generation is in full progress.

Under these circumstances attempts by railroad immigra-
tion officials and state bureaus to direct immigrants into the
Ozarks are misplaced. If any effort is worth while it must be
concerned with retaining the native population. Relative to
developed resources the highland is more densely settled than
its neighboring areas, and largely in consequence labor com-
mands lower returns. Emigration is natural and inevitable
as long as it is directed by economic pressure as at present.
The better sons of the Ozarks can find it worth their while to
remain only if defects in the present economic adjustment are
found and remedied. If nothing of the sort happens, the
drainage of this best blood will continue permanently and will
express itself in the decreased productivity of the area. The
movement is only in slight measure similar to the release of a
portion of the population by improved methods of production
such as has been the case with power farming in the prairie
states. The emigration now in progress indicates the begin-
ning of actual economic decline in numerous sections, if not yet
generally.

It does not follow from the foregoing that the people of the
Ozarks live in want. An initial period of no inferiority has
been succeeded by a century in which contrasts with surround-
ing regions have grown sharper and less favorable. The con-
sciousness of such an unfavorable comparison is in the main.a
matter of recent growth. The drifting away of the most pro-
ductive part of the population is following naturally and con-
stitutes a threat of increasing seriousness.

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 219

The half of Missouri that lies in the Ozarks possesses less
than one sixth of the wealth of the state. In terms of popula-
tion, however, the situation is much more favorable. Valua-
tions returned by the State Board of Equalization for 1918 are
approximately three hundred and twenty dollars per capita
for the Ozarks, as against five hundred and seventy-five dollars
for the entire state. In this calculation there are included in
the Ozarks such prosperous centers as Springfield, Jefferson
City and Cape Girardeau, as well as the mining regions of
Joplin and the St. Francois district. On the other hand, the
largest area of rough hill country in Missouri,’ embracing a
half dozen counties of extremely low total valuations, shows
per capita valuations nearly equal to the average of the whole
Ozark Highland. Two of the roughest counties in the Ozarks,‘
exceed the per capita average of the Ozarks by one eighth.
The explanation is that in the rough hill areas the hills are
almost entirely non-agricultural and the population is concen-
trated on reasonably good valley lands. Also, in a comparison
of the Ozarks with the remainder of Missouri it must be re-
membered that St. Louis holds a full third of the wealth of the
state, and that St. Louis and Kansas City together account for
nearly one half of all property. According to per capita of
population, the valuation of the Ozark region is easily two
thirds that of the remainder of Missouri if the two principal
cities are eliminated.* Certainly no general condition of
poverty prevails.

If the region gives an impression of poverty to the casual
visitor the explanation must be found in the simplicity of the
habits of the people and in the even distribution of wealth.
Few men possess much more than their neighbors, but want is
not much more common than is wealth. There are a few
poverty spots on submarginal farming lands, which are not in
the supposedly poorest regions, the rough hill sections. Too
much emphasis has been given to the idea of poverty in the
Ozarks. The parallel between the living conditions of the
Ozark native and the mountaineer of Kentucky and Tennessee
is not at all close and even less so is that with the poor white
of the southern Coast Plain. A degrading environment can
be shown only for very limited tracts and these are for the
most part outside of the cherty limestone regions. The trouble

The Courtois Hills region of the volume, op. cit.

4Carter and Shannon counties.

5 The figures are compiled from the Report of the State Auditor of
Missouri for 1917-18.

220 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

lies in the stagnation of life, as expressed by the lack of de-
velopment of new opportunities, and in part in an incipient
contraction of standards of living because an outworn eco-
nomic system is still followed.

The economic system has been altered only in minor ways
from that which was in force at the time of early settlement.
The average inhabitant of the Ozarks is still an unspecialized
small farmer, rather than a farmer following an intelligent
practise of diversification. Of labor income he knows nothing,
and commonly has none. The pursuits which he follows give
little opportunity for the accumulation of a surplus. The aim
of labor is hardly commercial, the labor being expended directly
toward the sustenance of the family. The condition is char-
acteristic of primitive groups. The economy is based primarily
on agriculture, but agriculture is typically only a partial means
of subsistence.

Corn is the dominant crop. It is grown on thin uplands
and on stony hillsides as predominantly as it is in rich bottoms.
It is produced not only with almost total disregard of the
character of farming land but of the size of yield as well,
simply because it has a larger direct utility to the individual
farmer than any other crop. It feeds the family, and the
horses, cattle, and hogs. It will keep without means of stor-
age. It will grow in the most poorly prepared ground. It
yields the largest returns of food per acre cultivated. Also
it was grown by the first settlers as the main crop and their
descendants are following the old traditions. From the stand-
point of commercial development, from every standpoint in
fact, except that of a farm functioning as a self-sufficing unit,
corn is grown very much in excess of the best interests of the
region. Except in the bottoms, the land has been much too
heavily “corned” for years and increasing difficulty is ex-
perienced in maintaining yields. But from the highly indi-
vidualistic viewpoint of the native it is the most suitable crop
for his social system or the lack of such a system.

In addition to being a corn-farmer, the resident of the in-
terior Ozarks is normally a live-stock producer. He could not
be designated, however, a rancher, breeder, or feeder. The
form of the industry also goes back to first frontier, and was
responsible in large measure for pioneer immigration into the
Ozarks. The plateau shreds, even where they were only nar-
row ridge-tops, were covered originally with grasses. They
are still commonly called prairies. On these live-stock grazing
was instituted at an early date. Fires were set habitually by

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 221

the pioneers to replenish and extend the grazing lands. These
fires extended the grass lands at the expense of the forests.
Grazing itself extended into the forests as the population in-
creased. Fires and long-continued grazing in the forests have
interfered in many districts with the growth of seedlings,
sprouts, and other undergrowth, and have resulted in a forest-
floor covered with grass and weeds. ‘The ridge-tops are now
converted almost entirely to plow land, and grazing has there-
fore suffered a restriction to the forested areas, which are
nearly equivalent to the hillsides. This poor, volunteer pas-
turage among the trees is incapable of improvement and by
reason of long-continued grazing at all seasons has been stead-
ily deteriorating. With the elimination of the natural grass
lands the cattle industry has largely passed into the condition
of a relict industry.

Hogs fare much better, being essentially forest animals, and
finding here a varied and often good mast of acorns, nuts, ber-
ries, and roots. The razor-back animal is an unimproved, but
successful adaptation to his peculiar environment. Sheep are
very few, because, roaming at will, they are subject to serious
danger from dogs, who are also unrestrained. Turkeys thrive
under a similar life, in which they partially revert to an un-
domesticated condition.

The keeping of stock bears virtually no relation to the
ownership of land. All land that is not farmed or in fenced
pastures constitutes the free range. This consists in part of
large timbered holdings belonging to absentee owners. Many
large tracts are crossed by the property lines of local farmers
but are not shut off by fences. The result is that stock ranges
widely through the woods, for most of the year without atten-
tion. As a consequence the struggle for a bare existence keeps
it in poor flesh. Even more serious is the reproduction by ac-
cidental breeding from scrub sires. Against the ease of this
method of live-stock raising are to be set the very low quality
of the product, the decreasing carrying power of the range,
and the uncertainty of the returns.

The average farm contains more wooded land than it does
cleared land. This is true even of the border regions, with the
exception of the Springfield area. In the hill counties there are
likely to be three or four acres of timbered land for every acre
cleared, in each farm. In addition there are large timber
tracts that are not included in farms. Timber products there-
fore are an important item in the economy of the native.
These items are produced and marketed principally by the

222 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

farming population, not by lumbermen. The principal products
are ties, and in some localities, cord wood and mine props. The
important stands of white and post oak are especially valuable
for ties, of which the aggregate production is large. The prin-
cipal winter occupation is the cutting and hewing of ties. They
are then hauled out over the frozen roads, or later rafted down-
stream during freshets. The industry is pursued with par-
ticular zeal because, among a group of part-time occupations
that yield little for sale, it provides cash returns. The very
great increase in the price of ties has lately stimulated strongly
the search for suitable tie timber. There are few sections in
which the trees available for this purpose are not fast de-
creasing, and the cutting of such timber has proceeded into the
most remote localities.

Numerous minor and incidental occupations are followed also
for their cash returns or for purposes of barter at the country
stores. Here belong the digging of roots such as ginseng,
golden seal, and blood root, hunting and trapping for skins, and
the digging of minor minerals, such as tiff (baryte) and fire
clay. In most cases, increased prices have made good a decreas-
ing supply, but the supply of these auxiliary resources is in gen-
eral markedly declining.

The Ozark farmer in short is following a system of produc-
tion that is in reality simply exploitation. In virtually all of
his occupations he has passed the period of largest volume re-
turns, although aggregate values may still be mounting. In-
creased prices can not permanently resist the actual decline that
is threatening the productive efficiency of the individual. Ex-
ploitation is a mark of the frontier and the perpetuation of the
frontier is recorded strikingly in this general condition.

The reasons for this peculiar fixation of a frontier are not
difficult to determine. In the first place, to a degree not equaled
elsewhere in the Middle West, the people of the Ozarks are
descended from frontiersmen. The parent stock represents a
certain aversion to orderly and sustained endeavor and there-
fore to intensive production. To what extent the trait persists
as a hereditary quality is not known, but, given the opportunity,
the native of the Ozarks apears to be about as frequently suc-
cessful as most other Missourians or Arkansans. The difficulty
with his ancestry seems to lie not so much with physical in-
heritance as with the traditions among which he is brought up.
At the least, he has not inherited the agricultural experience
and interests with which his neighbors of the plains are sur-
rounded. He goes back to a more primitive ancestry.

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 223

The biggest element in the retardation of Ozark life is the
isolation that the surface has imposed on the inhabitants. A
chain of rugged hill regions is thrown about the interior plateau
and constitutes a veritable entanglement of obstacles against
any approach from the lines of communications that follow the
Missouri, Mississippi, and Arkansas rivers. Even more sig-
nificant than the exclusion of the outside world is the detached
manner of living of the people. Valley is separated from val-
ley; valley settlement is out of touch with ridge settlement;
often family is isolated from family.

The simple result is that the isolation has kept social and
economic progress at a snail’s pace. The people were prim-
itive in their condition when they came, they are nearly as prim-
itive now. Without strong social instincts and training to
begin with, how were they to achieve common interests, com-
mon opinion, and common effort? For the economic problem of
the Ozark Highland is after all social in its fundamentals. The
difficulty that the people experience in getting to market is less
serious than their failure to get together. There has been no
substantial economic development because topographic isola-
tion has maintained successfully the social anarchy of the fron-
tier. It is the solitary position of the individual, rather than
the poverty of the soil, that at bottom is at fault with the
Ozarks. The so-called political conservatism of the Ozarks is
well known. It has its full social and economic equivalents.
The individualism is almost static. The individual produced
under this system is bound down by it. How can be he intel-
ligent enough or sufficiently strong to reshape the outworn eco-
nomic order? There are adequate possibilities for the inhab-
itants of the Ozarks, but these can be realized only by fairly ad-
vanced cooperative effort. Of cooperation the native knows
nothing beyond the relief of a neighbor in trouble. The stakes
of the region are not such as to tempt extraneous capital and
the social order therefore has received no alteration from the
outside. Unless the region is to become decadent, the isolation
and its resultant excessive individualism must be broken down,
and this must be done by the governments among which the
highland is divided.

The first corrective measure must be improved means of
communication. The construction of additional railroad lines
on the long shreds of plateaus is a simple matter. However,
their returns for a considerable period would hardly be suf-
ficient to tempt private capital. Unfortunately also several
Ozark branch lines have been abandoned lately. Similar expe-

224 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

riences in other sections of the country indicate that the time is
probably past for the construction of branch line railroads.

The main wagon roads follow ridge tops. Their location is
determined by low cost, freedom from floods, and freedom from
erosion. They are passable throughout the year, but serve di-
rectly only the settlements on the ridges. Over large sections
these settlements are not as flourishing nor as promising for
future developments as the valley settlements. It is notorious
that the traveler on the main roads sees very little of the better
land. The ridge roads are separated from the valley farms by
steep hills. Connection between the two is made by rough and
often badly washed side roads. The secondary roads that fol-
low the valleys are subject to flooding with every freshet and
are often washed out. Fords are innumerable, bridges few.
The location of roads was determined by the easiest lines of
travel. The adjustment is complete so far as it goes, but it is
based on unimproved roads that are simply traces worn by
travel. Permanent roads are needed in the valleys. Their ap-
propriate position would be on the lower flanks of valley slopes
out of reach of floods. Roads of this type can be had only by
moderately costly construction.

The road situation is so bad that it is almost impossible, and
consequently a number of counties are now undertaking road
building by bond issues. The present policy of state aid is con-
tributing important funds indirectly from the wealthier por-
tions to those Ozark districts that desire to avail themselves of
help. There is an unfortunate tendency, however, to follow the
locations of roads as they have become fixed by pioneer custom
and to superimpose the improved road on the all-weather trail.
In the building of roads there is needed not merely the technica!
skill of the road engineer, but a close economic analysis of the
distribution of good farming districts and their relation to road
facilities.

The live-stock industry as a cooperative enterprise, in place
of its present individualistic form, is indicated as the dominant
ideal occupation of the future. (1) Partly as the result of the
long period of erosion, partly because of the powerful aid of
solution, valley bottoms are extraordinarily numerous and large,
even among the roughest hills. Their rich soils, annually rein-
vigorated by floods, are suited to continuous cropping to corn.
The only argument for rotation of crops on these lands is the
elimination of diseases of the corn plant that may find lodg-
ment in the ground. On the valley lands, soy beans, velvet
beans, cow peas, clover, and alfalfa also grow very well. These

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 225

lands may grow important quantities of high-grade stock feed.
(2) Cheap grazing lands are available in large amount. The
lower valley slopes, the slip-off slopes of intrenched meanders,
benches on the sides of valleys, and the smaller ridge-tops espe-
cially are well suited for hay and pasture. Many ridge lands
are being cropped that should not be under plow. Their thin
clay soils are unprofitable for grain growing, but will produce
good grass, as they once did. In connection with a really
profitable live stock industry these ridge lands would be em-
ployed most profitably as permanent grass lands. At present
the most indigent larger group of farmers in the Ozarks is
found on ridges of this type. Very valuable forage grasses
and clovers are in process of naturalizing themselves success-
fully, and with some protection will improve the quality of the
forage markedly.* It is to be remembered that the strikingly
poor quality of present pastures is the result of over-grazing
and utter lack of care. (3) The mild climate and abundant
rainfall extend the grazing season almost to nine months.
Woods, cliffs, and coves provide partial winter shelters, too
often the only ones supplied for the stock. Housing and win-
ter feeding, however, are not serious problems. (4) Probably
no other section of the United States is so well supplied with
springs. Throughout the limestone country magnificent
springs of cold and pure water abound along all valleys. The
assertion is often made by a farmer that he has a good spring
in each pasture.

Cattle, hogs, and sheep all have their place on the Ozark
farm. (1) The first step in improvement of conditions is also
the easiest. It consists in the elimination of undesirable sires.
Even this is a community enterprise, both as to the purchase
of pure-bred males and the disposal of the undesirable males.
The custom of allowing stock to range about in the forests is
not likely to disappear soon, nor is it necessary if the control
mentioned is exercised. (2) The Ozarks constitute potentially
a great dairy country, undeveloped at present except for cer-
tain border regions. The absence of dairying is due to the
serious difficulties in marketing and the utter lack of experience
of the people. Cheese making is largely independent of ship-
ping facilities and could be undertaken even in remote valleys.
A geographical parallel is to be found in the Carolina moun-
tains, the physical conditions being somewhat better in the
Ozarks. In remote Carolina valleys a remarkable success has
been scored in the past few years by cooperative cheese fac-

&6 Lespedeza, sweet clover, blue grass, and Bermuda grass.
vou. x1.—15.

226 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tories. The conditions of living in many an Ozark valley could
be transformed similarly under proper direction. (8) A suc-
cessful swine husbandry could be worked out by combining
farm crops with mast and introducing a suitable breed, as for
instance one of the forest-bred English varieties of bacon hogs.
No attention is being given to the preservation and increase
of the kinds of trees that are most productive of mast, for ex-
ploitation does not heed any demand except that of an imme-
diate profit, even if small.

For every acre in the Ozark that is in any way improved
there remain two acres in the woods. In that third which is
classed as improved land is included a good deal of rough,
stumpy pasturage with a partial stand of timber remaining.
In the hill regions the amount of improved land is very small.
It is least in Carter County, with only nine per cent. of its total
surface improved. The wild land for the most part is covered
with oak timber, cut over repeatedly. The majority of the
timber to-day is small, and where grazing has not been heavy
the second-growth is dense. Potentially, it is one of the two
most important stands of oak timber in the United States. The
removal of the older trees and the neglect and injury of the
second-growth are resulting in rapid deterioration. In many
places even the acorn mast has been destroyed by the cutting
of seed-trees. Grazing has done much injury to the forest floor,
with the result that the growth is less vigorous than climate
and soil would indicate. The good timber is nearly gone, but
the land on which it grows is essentially non-agricultural.
Little of it has been laid waste by fires. It is probably no ex-
aggeration to estimate that fully half of the Ozarks can never
be good for anything except the growth of trees. It is not
growing good trees now and soon will be virtually non-pro-
ductive. Missouri is facing the idleness of a fourth of its total
area without so much as a forestry office in the state to take
notice of the situation. Arkansas is in no better condition.
The problem of restoring these forests to a productive condi-
tion must be worked out in cooperation with the farmers who
own a good half of the forest land and who will continue to be
dependent in various important ways on forest products.

As yet there has been surprisingly little soil destruction in
the Ozarks. Many Ozark streams are quite clear, even in flood.
Gradually land clearing is pushing into the margins of the
‘breaks’ with no profit to the farmer and with the threat of
grave damage to the countryside. These dangerous clearings
for the most part are made by ridge farmers who need addi-

THE OZARK HIGHLAND 227

tional acreage and are taking a chance on the upper slopes of
the valleys. The clean cutting of timber, fortunately, has not
been much practised, as it is of no advantage to the farmer.
Land clearing has nearly reached the limit of safety, and will
shortly pass it unless the economy of the area is readjusted.
The states concerned are still in good season for the introduc-
tion of land policy that will save the forests and their water
power, protect farming development, and relieve the taxpayers
from the burden of supporting large areas of idle lands.

Roads, live stock and a forest policy point the solution to
the stagnation of Ozark life. There will be other forms of de-
velopment, which even now are under way, but these three are
the fundamentals. Water power will be developed in increas-
ing amounts, but its benefits will go primarily to the cities that
are situated about the Ozarks. Tourists will discover increas-
ingly the merits of a recreation in Ozark streams, but it is to
be hoped that the native will not have his simple hospitality
spoiled by summer visitors. Fruit growing has received much
publicity and there are a number of good, established fruit dis-
tricts. Elsewhere, shipping facilities and organization present
difficult problems. Thin soils and steep slopes are antagonistic
to permanent orcharding. Missouri possesses in her loess
lands a much more productive fruit soil, much better located
than the interior Ozarks, and developed for orcharding to only
avery small extent. It would probably be beneficial to the de-
velopment of the Ozarks to place relatively less emphasis on
the possibilities of fruit.

Help is needed for the Ozarks. The condition of the people
is such that they can not well help themselves. They are stand-
ing singly, uninstructed in their larger possibilities. It is a
numerous population that needs to be made more effective,
before degenerative selection destroys its best capacities. State
investigators here and there are carrying on inquiries into
Ozark problems, but the work is largely lost because advice is
given in the main to those who know how to call for it. What
is needed above all is a policy of development for the region as
a whole which will recognize the unity of the problem, not its
fragments. If the states involved have the patience and the
wit to plant the community spirit in the valleys and on the
ridges of the Ozarks, the native will find in himself and in his
environment the resources with which to develop a permanent
constructive economy in place of the present self-destructive
system handed down from frontier ancestors.

bo
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[9 6)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

GIANT SUNS'

By Professor H. H. TURNER
SAVILIAN PROFESSOR OF ASTRONOMY, OXFORD UNIVERSITY

HE new secrets wrested from the stars have chiefly come,
A not from the increase in size of telescopes, but from the
new appliances attached to them, such as the photographic
plate, the spectroscope, and by this time many others. The
lines in the spectra of stars tell us what the stars are made of,
how they may be classified accordingly, how fast they are mov-
ing, how bright they really are (this is an amazing recent dis-
covery), and by inference how far away, and may yet have other
surprises in store. For the moment we are chiefly concerned
with the classification. The Harvard system gives us a number
of classes denoted by the capital lettersO BAF GKMRN.
The fact that the order is not quite the same as that of the
alphabet represents a revision of early ideas, chiefly due to the
gradual accumulation of intermediate types, which make a
nearly continuous series.

Now a series of stars in order is probably a representation
of growth; just as the growth of trees may be illustrated by
selecting various stages from the same wood, an illustration
originally given by Sir W. Herschel. But we have seen a tree
grow, and we know independently that it grows up from the
acorn through the sapling to the giant oak; while we have not
had time to see a star grow and were thus in ignorance whether
the changes are from B towards M or from M towards B, though
by this time we have an immense number classified. The classi-
fication has been largely the work of an American lady, Miss
Cannon. I am told that there is a man who can deftly
straighten rifle barrels—he gives a glance along the barrel, a
tap with a hammer, and lo! it is straight. His value is recog-
nized at some £15 a week. Miss Cannon has the same deftness
with spectra—but I fear that (to judge from the report of the
Board of Visitors of Harvard Observatory) her great skill is
not so appropriately rewarded.

Now it is obviously important to find out, if we can, which is
the direction of a star’s growth, and we seemed to have an im-

1 From an address before the Royal Institution of Great Britain.

GIANT SUNS 229

portant clue when the spectral classification was connected with
the temperature of a star, or rather its surface temperature,
which is all we can get at. The outside is the coolest, just as
the edges of a plate of porridge are the coolest, as most of us
have learned by early and rather painful experience. And yet
the outside of a star is hot enough. The temperature is again
estimated from the spectrum, though this time not from the
lines but from the relative intensities of the ends, and the O
B A end is undoubtedly hotter than the other. We may give as
illustrations 15,000° for B, 5,000° for G, and 2,500° for M.
Does this settle the matter? We know that there is a general
tendency for all bodies to cool which points to the direction
C B—M N as the order of events; but it was also known that
under the stress of gravitation a star might rise in temperature,
in which case the growth might be the other way. Still the
former alternative commended itself more generally; and when
Professor W. W. Campbell found that the velocities of stars
(also determined with the spectroscope) were smaller for type
B than the type M, the facts were interpreted to mean that a
star moved more quickly with advancing age (because M stars
were older than B). The idea that the life of a star was spent
in passage down the series O B—M was indeed pretty firmly
established at the time when the revolution came.

The revolution began with the advent of a young American
research student, Mr. H. N. Russell, to Cambridge in 1904-6.
It is to the credit of Mr. A. R. Hinks that he made so much of
this brilliant young student, setting him on the way to deter-
mine the distances of a number of stars by photography with
the instruments which he (Mr. Hinks) has spent much time
and labor in perfecting. This was the first element in his suc-
cess. The next was that on his return to America he got from
the Harvard Observatory—that storehouse of astronomical
facts—the spectral types of his stars; and combining these with
the measures of distance (which told him the intrinsic bright-
ness or luminosities of the stars) he found that stars of the
same spectral type M fell into two distinct groups separated by
an interval. There were very bright stars, now called Giants,
and there were very faint ones, now called Dwarfs, but none of
intermediate stature.

The same was true in minor degree for stars of other types,
but as the B end of the series was approached the gap gradually
disappeared much in the way that the gap between the legs of
a stepladder gradually lessens as we approach the top. Indeed
Russell’s diagram of his results is very like a stepladder, the
top representing the B stars followed by A, F, G, K, M, in

230 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

descending order, and the gap between the two legs of the lad-
der representing the difference in luminosity, as the intrinsic
brightness of a star has come to be called. Russell brought this
diagram with him when he came to attend the meeting of the
Solar Union at Bonn in 1913. It is sad to remember the occa-
sion, for the most friendly relations seemed to have been per-
manently established between the various nations assembled.
We remember with especial regret the trip on a great steamer
on the Rhine which ended the meeting, and, alas! was the end
also of our hopes of a permanent friendliness, for before the
year had passed the Great War had shattered them all. It was
on his return from Germany through England that Russell
showed us his stepladder diagram at the Royal Astronomical
Society, and expounded his views on the evolution of a star,
which were that its life began at the foot of the upright leg, the
ascent of which signified that the star was growing continually
hotter and changing its spectral type meantime from M up-
wards towards B, that at B the increase of temperature was
arrested and after a time cooling began carrying the star down
the inclined leg of the ladder through changes in the reverse
order. The only weak spot in the evidence arose from the small
number of observations. To determine the actual or intrinsic
brightness of a star we must know its distance, and there are
not many stars of which the distance can be easily measured,
and though Russell had himself increased the number, the total
was still not large. To get further evidence he had recourse to
indirect estimates of distance, especially those of clusters of
stars. We have lately become more and more aware of the
association of stars in clusters represented by their common
movement, somewhat in the way that the movements of a flock
of birds migrating from one place to another are associated.
If we may accept this evidence, and if we can determine the dis-
tance of any one star in the cluster, the distances of the others
can be inferred. In Russell’s skilful hands this evidence was
collated and found to strengthen his conclusions.

Let us pause here for a moment to reflect on the inherent
probability of the suggestion. Is it not after all much more
likely that a star first rises in temperature and then falls rather
than that it should be permanently either rising and falling?
Now that the idea has been put forward, and that there seems
to be not only good evidence of this change in the sky, but, as
we shall presently see, also good theoretical reason for it, we
wonder why the idea was not the most natural one to adopt
from the first. But curiously enough it was not the one adopted
by astronomers, with the notable exception of Sir Norman Lock-

GIANT SUNS 231

yer, who made the same suggestion as Russell’s (though on
different grounds) many years before. May I give a crude
illustration from our ordinary life of the mistake that was made
by many of us? It is as though we had taken the amount of
hair as an indication of the age of a man. In very early life
the amount of hair is small, it increases with age up to a certain
point, but then it begins to decrease until a very old man often
has as little hair as a newborn baby. We could give Shake-
speare’s Seven Ages of Man according to the amount of hair in
the same diagrammatic form as Russell’s stepladder, beginning
with the baby at the foot of the upright leg, ascending to the
man in middle life with maximum hair (corresponding to the
maximum temperature), and placing the greater ages down the
inclined leg till we arrive again at a bald pate. Shakespeare
reminds us with his phrase about the voice “turning again
toward a childish treble” that not only the hair but the voice
goes through changes which show a reversal after middle life.
We were practically confusing the baby stars with the old man
stars until Russell called our attention to the fact; and now it
seems quite easy to make the distinction. But there was some
hesitation before the new views were accepted at all, chiefly on
account of the lack of sufficient measures of distance, which left
room for doubt. Recently the evidence has been reinforced in
a remarkable way by a totally new and unexpected method for
inferring the distances of stars, due to Mr. W. S. Adams, of the
Mount Wilson Observatory in California. His discovery is that
if we have two stars, one of which is very bright intrinsically
and the other faint, but both of the same spectral type, we can
find two lines of the spectra which have different relative inten-
sities: let us call them A and B. In the bright star A is more
intense than B, in the faint star B will be more intense than A.
Now observe that this difference will persist however far we
may remove the stars from us. By altering the distances we
may make the brighter star appear the fainter, but we can
pierce its disguise by noting simply that the line A in the
spectra is the more intense, so that if the star appears faint we
see at once that this must be due to its greater distance. In
fact we can infer the distance from the relative intensities of
the lines A and B, so that Adams has really given us a new
method of inferring distances. The new method has the further
advantage of requiring far less labor than the old method of
parallax; in fact, when once the spectrum has been photo-
graphed the further labor required is quite small, so that by
this time Adams has been able to give us the luminosity of hun-
dreds of new stars, and by this overwhelming evidence confirms
Russell’s results derived from merely a few.

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THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

In addition to this confirmation by new observations we have
had an independent confirmation by the brilliant theoretical
work of Professor Eddington, who has attacked the problem of
the life of a star mathematically. He supposed a mass of gas
first of all to be simply under the action of its own gravity. It
will consequently contract, and owing to the contraction will
rise in temperature; but Professor Eddington soon found that
this simple hypothesis would not answer—it led him to impos-
sible results. Clearly something else beside gravity must be at
work, and he was driven to the further hypothesis that the
radiation-pressure inside the star played an important part in
its history. Radiation-pressure (or if we like to call it so, light-
pressure) is what makes the tail of a comet. As a comet ap-
proaches the sun it begins to feel the effects of the fierce light,
which is known to be able to drive away very small particles
from the head of the comet, much as we can blow away chaff
from wheat. In consequence of this action the small dust-like
particles which may exist in the head are believed to be driven
outwards to form the tail. But this force is not merely in ex-
istence on the outside of the sun, it permeates its whole body.
A particle inside the sun is of course receiving radiation-
pressure from all its surroundings, but the pressure will natu-
rally be greater on the hotter side, 7. e., on the side of the sun’s
center. Working out the problem afresh with the addition of
this new factor, Professor Eddington has obtained results
which agree satisfactorily with the observed effects, and indeed
the closeness of the agreement is startling. He is able to utilize
the fact noticed earlier in the acticle, that the masses of the
stars are not very different, so that it is easy to take three rep-
resentative cases—let us say one in which the mass is equal to
that on our sun, one in which it is 5 times greater, and one in
which it is 5 times less—and by following these three cases in
detail he can show the distinctive features of different stars.
Briefly, the stepladder is highest for the star of greatest mass,
which may get hotter and hotter until it reaches type O; a star
of intermediate mass like our sun is arrested at a lower height,
and may not reach higher than type F, or at best A, before it
begins to fall down the inclined leg; while a star of small mass
may reach no higher than type K at any time. The golfers in
the audience may be reminded of their handicaps. Those who
are destined to be scratch players (probably, however, not be-
cause of their great mass) improve very rapidly until they
reach the highest pitch of excellence, and it may even be only
in old age that they begin to travel downwards; but then there
are others of long handicap, who although they may improve a

GIANT SUNS 233

little at first never get beyond the fatal 18 at their best, and on
whom declining years soon begin to leave their mark.

One of the most remarkable suggestions of Professor Edding-
ton’s work gives a reason for the close resemblance in mass of
the stars. There is a certain mass for which the radiation-
pressure pressing outwards nearly balances the force of gravi-
tation pulling inwards, and it is clear that for stars as large or
larger than this a break-up sooner or later is to be expected.
This assigns very obviously the upper limit to the masses—we
can easily see why there are no stars larger than a certain limit.
But how about the lower limit? Are there no stars very much
smaller than this? Certainly there are: we are living on one
of them. Our earth is smaller by some thousands of times; but
then it is not a star in the full sense, for it is not shining with
its own light. If it did ever so shine the light must have been
feeble at best and have only lasted for a very short time. There
may in fact be many small stars, but we do not see them, and
accordingly have not reckoned them in saying that the masses
of the stars are closely similar.’

I can not give you a better idea of the value of Professor
Eddington’s work than by quoting a few words from a letter
written to me by Mr. Russell, again specially in response to a
request mentioning this lecture: ‘‘ What appeals to me as the
big thing is Eddington’s work on radiative equilibrium (MN 77,
p. 16 and p. 596). The importance of this can hardly be ex-
aggerated; it is not too much to say that it is the first rational
theory of stellar constitution.”

Eddington has in fact given us a rough attempt at tracing
the history of a star of given mass. By way of illustration let
us consider our own sun. He is now a “dwarf star,” on the
descending leg of the ladder, of spectral type G, and with a sur-
face temperature of about 5,000° C., and an absolute magnitude
5.1. Looking back into the past he was at one time much hotter
and of type F, and probably never rose much higher than this
on the ladder. Before that his history lay on the ascending leg,
and there was a time when his spectral type was just as at pres-
ent, but his absolute magnitude was near zero, five magnitudes
greater than at present. This means that the total light was
100 times greater than now, and since the surface was in a
similar radiative state, it must have been 100 times more exten-
sive. The diameter of the sun was therefore ten times the
present diameter—ten million miles instead of one million.

2On reading this again I realize that it does not do full justice to

Eddington’s suggestion for the lower limit. He shows a definite difficulty
in the formation of small stars.

234 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Where our little earth may have been at that time we can
scarcely conjecture, but supposing for a moment that we had
been able to regard the sun in our present conditions, he would
have taken nearly an hour to rise instead of a few minutes; and
when risen, his disc would be ten times as great in all direc-
tions—a “giant” sun indeed! And yet this magnification of
10 to 1 is only modest compared with the extreme possibilities.

We set out by the recollection of Jack the Giant Killer, but
our road has led us rather to think perhaps of Jack and the
Beanstalk. We have climbed up to Giant Land, the land of the
giant suns, not by a beanstalk, but by means of the trembling
rays of light, a ladder which does not grow upwards from our
earth, but is let down to it by the giants themselves. “Fee Fo
Fum!” said the Giant, “I smell the blood of an Englishman.”
In our analogy the giants have been invaded, not by an English-
man, but chiefly by an American; but at any rate we have the
satisfaction of reflecting that his work began in Cambridge
when he was a student, and that at the end of it there has ema-
nated from Cambridge this brilliant confirmation by Professor
Eddington of which the discoverer has himself expressed such
generous appreciation.

THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 235

THE MEDICAL AND ALLIED PROFESSIONS AS
A STATE SERVICE

By D. FRASER HARRIS, M.D., D.Sc., F.R.S.E., F.R.S.C.,
PROFESSOR OF PHYSIOLOGY, DALHOUSIE UNIVERSITY, HALIFAX, N. S.

LTHOUGH preventive medicine is state-controlled, cura-
A tive medicine is still the same unorganized, happy-go-
lucky competition it ever was. Some thinkers assert that the
time has now come for the applied science of curative medicine
to be taken over by the state and organized into a system.
Both departments—preventive medicine and curative medi-
cine—would naturally be under the Department of the Minister
of Health. Of course, there would be but one portal of en-
trance with one uniform standard of examination into the
departments of curative state medicine and of preventive state
medicine. This one standard of entrance would remove many
existing anomalies. The doctor would then be to the whole
public what the club doctor is now to a section of it. He would
attend to the cure of cases exactly as the department attends to
the prevention of cases. He would be a state official, salaried
and pensioned as such. It is an anomaly that if your child has
scarlet fever, while one aspect of the case can be properly taken
in hand by an official only of the one aspect of medical science,
the other aspect of the case has to be left to private medical
enterprise. I should be able to summon a state-paid physician
for a case of broken leg, pneumonia or insanity just as I now
am able to do in a case of measles or diphtheria. This would,
of course, lead to the whole problem of medical treatment being
solved by being state-controlled. The great hospitals with their
vast, beneficent out-patient departments would become state
institutions just as prisons, penitentiaries and asylums are
already.

There is no valid, other than a historical, reason why the
scientific cure of disease should not be a state service as much
as the scientific prevention of disease. The Indian Medical
Service affords us an example of a state-managed medical
service; it shows us how such an organization might be so
vastly extended as to become imperial. Promotions, disability
pensions, retiring pensions, etc., would be arranged for as in
the Civil Service. The state would, therefore, also logically

236 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

take care of the problem of research in medicine, and, directing
it, coordinate the isolated efforts made in it in the manner most
beneficial to the public weal. In the United States, private
enterprise has endowed medical research in a truly magnificent
manner. Private endowments could still be given for medical
research within the British Empire, but it would be well if
the directing of medical research were made a responsibility of
the state. Much of it is even now, as for instance, the splendid
work on plague done in India, and the work on cancer in
London. The medical researcher is a medical man no less than
the general practitioner; he is only more specialized ; he should
equally be a servant of the state.

In an article by Colonel J. T. K. Maurice, C.M.G., entitled
“A Vision of State Medical Science,” which was published in
The Hospital for November 9 and 16, 1918, the matter is
put thus:

Let us say in sickness the best advice and treatment is to be placed
within the reach of every man, woman and child of the community .. .
thoroughly efficient measures to ensure the good health of the community
are to be devised and properly carried out. ... Surgical and medical
knowledge have stridden forwards so rapidly in the last few decades that
the means of diagnosis and treatment to the hands of the medical profes-
sion are far more elaborate, far more efficacious and far more costly
than they were heretofore. The guesswork of the old clinical diagnosis
can be supplemented by X-rays, chemical tests, sera diagnoses and so
forth, and an accuracy, a certainty, attained that was formerly impossible.
. .. These elaborate processes are expensive, many require special build-
ings, costly apparatus, and men of long experience and special skill to
apply them; and so under present circumstances they can not always be
_ brought to the service of the sick... . Sera and vaccines, new powerful
drugs, anesthetics, and antiseptic surgery, have brought about a wonder-
ful change. But treatment by these means is an expensive matter, and
entails the employment of highly skilled nurses ...so the wages of
nurses have risen and rightly. . . . The total result of all these changes
is that the expense of making an accurate and fully confirmed diagnosis
and of giving thoroughly sound treatment and nursing is so high that
it is unattainable to most of the population except by charity. It could,
however, be obtained by cooperation and mutual assurance, either by
voluntary association or by submission to the necessary taxation. Either
is better than the pauperization that comes of charity. The ideal is a
healthy race, each man paying for himself or paying his share of the cost
of maintaining the common health.

Sanitary science in all its wide ramifications has not yet come into
its own. .. . In some large towns a good deal is done to preserve health
by preventing disease. But the important step of thoroughly educating
the mass of population has not yet been taken. All must learn that a
healthy race implies parents without inheritable defects, strong and
healthy in body and mind by gift of birth, implies restraint of the
passions, avoidance of venereal disease, proper selection of foods, exercise

THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 237

in fresh air, avoidance of overcrowding, good ventilation of houses, healthy
occupation, healthy amusements, and happy occupation of leisure instead
of unwholesome pleasure. One of the first needs of health is to learn
wisely to use leisure. All this must be taught. A state medical service
should be an educating service. If a state medical service were formed,
its functions should be executive and advisory. It should carry out meas-
ures to prevent disease, but the measures would emanate from legislative
bodies. It should advise parliament, county councils, corporations and
other public bodies. It should suggest legislation. It should treat the
sick. It should educate the community in the ways of healthy living, and
it should administer itself.

Before we descend to the details of the working scheme of
the state medical service, let us consider the exact point we
have reached in what might be called the evolution of the
medical profession from the individualism of the physician of
the middle ages to the somewhat socialistic position which he
occupies to-day.

If we go far enough back we find the doctor to be physician,
surgeon, anatomist, botanist, zoologist and pharmacist, all in
one. In the eighteenth century one single professor often
taught botany, anatomy, surgery—and what physiology there
was. But now he has evolved or been differentiated into at
least six persons—anatomist, botanist, surgeon, pharmacist,
pharmacologist and physiologist. Just as in the village the
same shop is post-office, grocer’s, tobacconist’s and various
other things all in one, in the great city it is represented by
half a dozen distinct establishments.

There is another feature of modern civilization, especially
in Christian countries, namely, the rapidly growing solicitude
for the health and welfare of sections of the community as
distinguished from the individuals in it. Previously, the indi-
vidual physician treated or cared for the individual patient,
and there his activities ended; to-day the public conscience is
occupied with problems about the welfare of growp or sections
of the public; with soldiers and sailors as such, boys under
fourteen as such; with those infected with venereal disease or
with phthisis or those who are in prison or are destitute. Spe-
cific groups in modern society are being studied, examined,
educated, treated and cared for generally in such a way as to
show that the question, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” has been
very fully answered in the affirmative. Thus we have societies
for ameliorating the vital conditions of Thames bargemen,
policemen, postal officials, illiterate immigrants, ex-convicts,
seamstresses, indigent gentlewomen, and many other groups in
the community as such.

238 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY j

It is the day of a sanitarily minded humanitarianism; the
cruelty of the eighteenth century—of the Hogarth pictures, for
instance—has gone, we hope, for ever. Society with a big S
used on Sundays to make up parties to be entertained by the
howls and antics of maniacs chained behind the bars of cells in
Bedlam, as the Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem was called.
The eighteenth century was cold, artificial, antipathetic and
cruel, but Hales and Howard and Elizabeth Fry and Florence
Nightingale became pioneers in that movement towards modern
sympathy not so much with the distress of individuals as with
the sufferings of social groups.

At the present time it is the health of sections of the com-
munity that is the concern of governments: for instance, the
health of miners and of workers in potteries and of wool-
sorters, as such. We have become communistic, institutional-
istic, socialistic, in the very best sense of that word. The in-
stituting of a state medical service is entirely in harmony with
the general trend of this ever-widening humanitarianism, for
it means that the health of the nation is to be looked after in
a manner similar to that according to which any other national
concern is managed—war, the law, trade, agriculture or fish-
eries. We have officers and ministers for these affairs of
national importance: it is suggested that we have one for the
national health, a concern undoubtedly more important than
any other.

The great war has made it very clear to us that far larger
numbers of the population are physically infirm than we had
any idea of. Even if all the military rejections were not
sustained on revision, the number of men under the normal
in health is alarmingly large. Now all this ill-health means
inefficiency not only from a military point of view, but from
every other. But the war, happily, has shown us something
else, namely, that the applied science of national state medicine
or hygiene could, by the working of a well thought-out organ-
ization, prevent the outbreak of those very diseases which in
all previous campaigns proved more disastrous than wounds or
bullets. In illustration of this, the following figures may be
quoted: In the South African War the ratio per cent. of those
dying of disease to those dying of wounds was as 65 to 35.
In the Great War the same ratio was 5.14 to 94.85. This
revelation is a great triumph for preventive medicine; it shows
what, given a fair chance, it could achieve under the most dis-
advantageous circumstances. If all this prevention of disease

THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 239

and this conserving of human life could be carried out under
the most distracting conditions of the most inhuman war in
the history of this planet, what could not state medicine achieve
when working under the sane conditions of that normality
called “‘ peace”?

A national weakness must be met by national strength; a
national disease by a national remedy. What were, then,
briefly the factors that made for hygienic success in the war?
First, expert knowledge and the services of relatively few ex-
perts organized for the benefit of relatively many people. This
is precisely the principle we advocate being applied on an im-
perial scale. The war was won by cooperation, and the more
speedily as that cooperation was the more perfect. Why
should this principle not be applied under peace conditions?
If fighting and the law are considered such honorable state
services, why may the equally noble profession of medicine not
be so considered? Surely fighting and destroying are not the
only outlets for patriotism. I submit that it is as patriotic to
save the lives of the children of a state as it is to take away
those of its enemies. It does not invariably require great skill,
though it may require great courage, to take away a life; it
sometimes requires all the resources of science to save one.
As an old friend of mine used to say: “‘ Any fool can burn my
shirt; what I want is some one who can iron it.” While the
highest expression of the patriotism of a day that is dead was
to be proficient in the art of destroying life, may we not hope
that the highest form of the patriotism of the day that has
just dawned may be the attaining to the highest proficiency in
the science of preserving life?

This state medical service is something more than merely
organizing the medical profession as it exists at the present
moment; it is nothing less than the creation of a state service
for the explicit purpose of maintaining the highest health of
the highest number of the citizens of our empire, and therefore
systematically preventing the outbreak of diseases amongst
them. This new service would conserve the health of all our
social groups; the navy, army, the merchant marine, civil
servants, inmates of prisons, penitentiaries and asylums for
the insane, boys in reformatories, defective children, the blind
and deaf and dumb, immigrants and all foundlings. This state
service would so supervise the health of school children that all
our present amateur efforts towards child-welfare would be-
come superfluous. It would take charge of all hospitals, gen-
eral, surgical, maternity, for venereal diseases, for cancer and

240 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

incurable diseases, and, of course, of all sanatoria, for all such
institutions would then belong to the state. The service
would supervise the noble nursing profession in all its activi-
ties. It would investigate all problems coming under public
sanitation—adulteration of food, the storing, cleansing and dis-
tribution of water, inspection of ventilation, quarantine,
prophylactic inoculation, and everything else included under
“State Medicine” in the older, more restricted acceptation of
that term. It would supervise all specialisms and techniques,
including dental surgery, orthodiascopy and the therapeutic
use of all forms of energy. Naturally, the compilation of vital
statistics would fall under the province of the service. Finally,
it would not only organize, direct and reward research, but
also organize direct and reward all forms of teaching required
in the medical profession; for by the time of which I am
speaking, the universities, like the hospitals and laboratories,
would have become state institutions. There would not only
be no private hospitals, there would be no private schools of
the cause and treatment of rheumatoid arthritis and other
medicine whatsoever. Research into such large problems as
widespread diseases responsible for a large measure of national
inefficiency and suffering, could at last become a national affair
and be investigated on an adequate scale.

This is neo-socialism, socialism in excelsis, which has abso-
lutely nothing to do with the socialism of the red tie and the
levelling down to an h-less vulgarity. Therefore, for this neo-
socialism a name is needed; I would suggest cooperationism:
for we are thinking not of any ideal and, indeed, wholly
Utopian conditions where all men are considered equal (which
they never were nor can be), but of a social state in which the
special attainments of the cooperating few are specifically
organized for the benefit of the many. Individualism, often
heroic beyond all description, was sufficient for the earlier,
ruder, simpler and smaller communities; but cooperation, the
organized working for the common good, is the goal we aim at
in this newer and truer socialism. Individualism meant
rivalry and jealousy, a waste of energy with its consequent
detriment to science; cooperationism means a unity of plan
and a definiteness of purpose with its corresponding increase
in efficiency. The gain from all this to the ordinary, un-
grouped member of the community is at once apparent; not
only would he command the very highest skill in diagnosis and
treatment, but there would be no longer any need for him to
subscribe to sickness clubs and similar societies, since he would

THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 241

belong to a nation which was one vast mutual benefit society.
He would, like the Chinaman, pay to be kept well; but if by
any mischance he did become ill, he would have, as it were,
round the corner all the resources of a world-wide empire to
cure him.

One must gratefully acknowledge that a Department of
Health has been created in Great Britain, and that in Canada
by an Act which passed the House of Commons on April 14,
1919, a similar department under a deputy minister has come
into existence. Some of the duties to be undertaken by this
new department are: the maintenance of a national laboratory
for public health and research work; inspection and medical
care of immigrants and seamen and the administration of
marine hospitals; the supervision of all matters relating to the
health of those employed on railways, boats, ships and all
forms of transportation, as well as the health of civil servants
and of all government employees.

If one sketches the organization for London and Great
Britain, then it could be adopted by any other part of the
Empire and modified if necessary to suit the particular local
conditions. Naturally, the organization of the R. A. M. C. is
the one to be followed as a general model. The headquarters
staff would have to reside in London and direct the service not
only in London itself but throughout the whole country. The
size of London makes it unique in respect of any organization,
and it has to be treated as equivalent to a whole district.

After London in order of importance would come the large
provincial cities, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Birmingham, Liverpool,
etc., each of which would have to be administrated by a staff
for itself. In each the hospitals would be so organized as to
provide for in-patients, out-patients, laboratory diagnostic
work, and all the necessary technical, diagnostic and thera-
peutic activities. The practitioners of each city would all be
organized into the resident hospital service, the out-patient
service and the general city service. No one of these would be
considered more honorable than any other.

Associated with the great city hospital would be a group of
small towns, each with its hospital, and associated with each
of these would be a group of rural or cottage hospitals.

There is no question as to the S. M. S. being a costly service.
It might, however, prove in actual experience not so costly as
at present on paper it seems to be. For, in the first place, in a
state which adopted cooperationism the enormous expenses
previously needed for the upkeep of the huge navy and the

VoL x1.—16.

242 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

army would be saved. In the next place, a great many institu-
tions having private endowments from public or private chari-
ties would have their funds taken over by the state as trustee,
and would therefore cost the state by so much less to admin-
ister. Thirdly, the vast sums now given by public and private
charities would become part of the taxes for the public health
paid by everyone towards the upkeep of the service. Fourthly,
the endowments of certain old and large British hospitals and
seats of learning would pass over to the custody of the state.
From the patient’s point of view, the service would be a glori-
fied state insurance against illness, not, of course, as a charity
or on the meagre scale of a private mutual benefit society, but
on that of the greatest and most enlightened empire in history.
Colonel Maurice says the funds could be raised (1) out of gen-
eral taxation on the budget, (2) by rates and (3) by a special
public health assessment applicable to all adults according to
their means.

The benefits of a state medical service are evidently two-
fold; those accruing to the members of the medical profession
and those to the public. In the first place, as all properly quali-
fied medical men would become registered in the national serv-
ice, the quacks and irregular practitioners would soon be ex-
posed and got rid of. Osteopaths would become licensed mas-
seurs and nothing else. ‘“ Homeopaths” and “ faith-healers”
would cease to be, because they would not possess the state
license to practise.

In the next place, there would be no struggle for existence,
for each man would have a salary sufficient for his needs from
the outset, and the prospect of a disability or old age pension,
as the case might be.

The soul-destroying competitions, rivalries and jealousies
of the old régime would to a large extent disappear. There
would, however, be plenty of incentives to the ambitious men
to rise in the profession, there would be plenty of research to
be undertaken, plenty of rough places to be made plain. No
one can say that there are not plenty of incentives to rise in
the state professions of the Navy, the Army or the Law; and
it need not be any the less so in the State Medical Service.

The advantages to those in need of treatment, are, in the
stock phrase, “‘too numerous to mention.” The public health
would be preserved as never before; treatment would be
prompt and of the very highest quality. Specialists of all sorts
would be easily accessible, and all manner of special treatments
readily available. There would, on the one hand, be no possi-
bility of overlapping, nor, on the other, could there be whole

THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 243

districts of many parts of the empire without a medical man,
as at present.

In Colonel Maurice’s scheme the salaries to officers in the
service run from £300 a year ($1,500) to £5,000 ($25.000).
Colonel Maurice says that under a state medical service the
medical man would be relieved of the expenses of traveling, of
instruments, consulting rooms, drugs and dressings. For the
highest administrative ranks, he says “the pay would be at
least equal to the highest ranks of the civil service.” We may
take it for certain that the scheme will be a complete failure if,
in respect to pay, pensions, prestige, Royal and social recogni-
tion, titles and other rewards, this service is in any way in-
ferior to the Civil Service. It must be recognized by the state,
and it will soon thereafter be recognized by the public, that it
is just as honorable to save a life as it is to blow up an enemy
of one’s country or sentence a criminal to be hanged.

Under cooperationism the health of the commonwealth is
considered a more important affair than any other aspect of
the national existence. As has been mentioned, entrance into
the S. M. S. would be by the regular final examinations of the
state universities, it being the understood thing that every
medical graduate was destined for that service. Successful
candidates would be graded according to their relative stand-
ing, and to some extent allowed the choice of positions, as in the
civil service. The pay of all members would not, of course, be
equal. In cooperationism there are grades of service, and
remunerations vary with height therein and with responsi-
bility. Some men prefer to remain in the lower grades with
few or no responsibilities; others, capable of assuming re-
sponsibilities, are allowed to do so and are rewarded accord-
ingly. Retirement on pension at certain ages differing with
the position attained in the service would, of course, be duly
provided for. The medical profession is the one doing the
maximum amount of work in the interests of others, and this
proposed organizing of it would be the official recognition by
the state that these things are so.

In conclusion, let us look at certain objections and criticisms.

As there is nothing new, so there is nothing perfect, under
the sun. The following are among the objections that have
been raised to the state medical service:

1. It would do away with the patient’s right of choice of a
physician, surgeon, obstetrician, etc. It is asked: are rich and
poor, leaders in society and persons not in society at all, the
unco’ guid and the declassé all to be treated by the same medi-

244 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cal man or in the same institution? I can do no better than
quote Colonel Maurice’s answer to this: “It has always been
the case that certain surgeons, physicians and obstetricians
have earned great reputations, are in great demand and are
able to command large fees; and always there have been
wealthy persons prepared to pay the fees such highly considered
men demand for their services. Some have special faith in
one, some in another; and some only ask that some one of
great renown shall operate upon them or those dear to them.
There is no reason why such a system should not continue with
a state medical service. The state will provide efficient atten-
tion for every citizen and will appoint to each his medical at-
tendants, and will see to it that each can get the special skill
and nursing appropriate to his or her case. Every man will
be safe to trust to the organized care offered him, but if he
fancy some special surgeon or physician of whom he has heard,
there will be no reason why he should not choose (if he cares)
to pay a special rate for that man’s services. A rich man,
then, has appendicitis. He has at hand in his sub-district a
surgeon thoroughly competent to operate on him, and he can,
if he choose, take a special ward in his district hospital for the
rental charged for it, or he can, if he be frugal-minded, use
the free wards and go in and be operated on by the surgeon
free of all operation fee. But he has heard that some man has
a specially great reputation or is fashionable because he has
operated on royalty, or he fancies him for some reason or no
reason. There is nothing to prevent his demanding the
services of that surgeon and paying his fee. The fee will vary
with the man just as it does now, twenty-five guineas, fifty
guineas, a hundred guineas or more. ... But the surgeon is
the paid servant of the state, paid out of taxation or special
medical contribution; he can not, therefore, be allowed to turn
aside from his state service for special cases and receive double
pay. He must share his fee with the state. As it is important
to stimulate men to make themselves fit for the front ranks of
the skilful and to stay there, it would not be politic to take all
of such special fees. The great surgeon is drawing £3,000 a
year from the state. His special fee is fixed at from 100
guineas to 250 guineas. He goes to the rich man, takes 100
guineas fee and gives 50 guineas to the state. So if he does
one hundred such special operations in a year, he will make
£10,000 a year and more for himself and the state will get back
in half fees all his pay and get work from him into the bargain.
Nor can such a scheme be considered unfair to doctor or

THE MEDICAL PROFESSION 245

patient. To the former, ever since he entered the service, the
state has assured a competency and given education and oppor-
tunity. To the patient, the state, through its carefully trained
and supervised medical service, guarantees competent medical
attendance at no more cost than the common taxation neces-
sary to secure it. If through whimsicality or for more excus-
able reason an individual wishes to upset the state arrange-
ment by a special call, it is not unfair that he should pay a
special rate for the privilege.”

In all probability something like this would happen—the
hospitals belonging to a rich and fashionable district would
soon be frequented by a rich and fashionable clientele; the
others by others. There would be a process of natural selec-
tion on the part of patients in respect of individual physicians,
institutions, districts; and in a short time, social segregation
and sedimentation would have worked out society’s own
salvation.

So far the objections contemplated apply less to a demo-
cratic country like Canada than to a country like England,
which still possesses a landed aristocracy and where social dis-
tinctions are still numerous and fairly well defined. Naturally,
we could hardly expect His Grace the Duke or His Grace the
Archbishop to be treated at the same clinic as his coachman
or his butler. Certain hospitals would in time become so
popular with a certain section of the wealthy or exclusive set
that they would virtually correspond to the expensive private
hospitals of the old régime.

More real as a factor working for failure is the ingenuity
of human nature to wreck the fairest scheme ever put forth
by the human brain. The odious system of political patronage,
whereby incompetent persons can be appointed to positions in-
tended to be filled by experts, can blast schemes that are
brightest. The state medical service by its very nature and
aims ought to be the one most remote from the baneful influ-
ences to which we are now alluding. The service would be
administered, not by lay figureheads, but by medical men and
the experts themselves. The appointees would receive their
commissions not by favor, caprice or nepotism, but by merit
brought out at examination.

There is no Eden without its serpent: but if any organiza-
tion of human contriving might reasonably be expected to be
free from the reptilian blight of political interference and mis-
management, it surely would be that of the State Medical
Service.

246 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE ECONOMIC IMPORTANCE OF THE SCIEN-
TIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT. III

By Dr. EDWARD B. ROSA

CHIEF PHYSICIST, BUREAU OF STANDARDS

METALLURGY, CERAMICS, AERONAUTICS, ETC.

A' ANY other examples of the economic importance of scien-
M tific research and standardization could be cited, if time
permitted. The metallurgical industries have been greatly de-
veloped in recent years through scientific research, and there
is now greater activity than ever in this field. The metal-
lurgical division of the Bureau of Standards works in close
cooperation with the engineering societies and manufacturers,
and is doing work of very great industrial importance. The
manufacture of glass, porcelain, tile, and other clay products
has been greatly stimulated during the war by the cooperation
of scientific laboratories, and vast benefit would be derived by
these industries if this cooperation could be continued and even
increased. The measurement of temperatures and especially
high temperatures is a problem of continually increasing im-
portance in the industries, and many scientific investigations
are continually arising in this connection. The intelligent and
efficient development of aeronautics depends on the possession
of full and reliable information as to the properties of ma-
terials, the accurate measurement of the performance of
machines, experimental researches in mechanics and aero-
dynamics, and the most intelligent utilization of existing and
newly developed information. Considering the amount of
money that is being expended in the development of aeronautics,
it would seem that a very considerable amount should go into
scientific research. The measurement of color and of illumina-
tion and of the optical properties of materials and the develop-
ment of optical methods and instruments form together a field
of investigation of great scientific and economic value. It is
impossible even to mention all the subjects of importance in
this connection, but enough has been said to show how vast the
field and how practical the results that are obtained whenever
science is appealed to in answering the problems arising in the
industries.

RESEARCH BY LARGE CORPORATIONS

The Standard Oil Company has attained a wonderful repu-
tation for its technical and commercial success in deriving
valuable products from petroleum, a result which could never
have been reached without extensive scientific research.

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 247

The General Electric Company has achieved notable suc-
cess in the development of electrical instruments and ma-
chinery, electric lamps, steam turbines, the applications of
electricity to ship propulsion, etc., and a very large part of
this success may be credited to its scientific and development
work. Its research laboratories have turned out many valu-
able contributions to science, in addition to the results of direct
application in their business. The American Telephone and
Telegraph Company, and its subsidiary, the Western Electric
Company, have achieved a world-wide reputation for their
development of long distance telephony, multiplex telephony
and telegraphy and radio telephony, as well as for the develop-
ment of many of the engineering features of telephone prac-
tise of the present day.

These and other great corporations carry on research work
on a generous scale and derive great commercial advantage
therefrom. But thousands of smaller companies can not do
what they do. The smaller companies are, however, render-
ing the public a service that is very essential, and the public
will serve itself by helping them to improve this service. This
does not mean that they will have their burdens carried for
them by the government, but rather that the government as
the agent of the public should participate in research and
standardization work (in cooperation with manufacturers’ as-
sociations and engineering societies) in order that the public
may be better served and in order that the public may judge
more intelligently of the quality of the product or the service
rendered. It is the open door method of doing business as
opposed to the method of keeping the government and the
public in partial ignorance. The burden of this work when
borne by over a hundred million people is very light; the
benefits far outweigh the cost. The American Telephone and
Telegraph Company’s research laboratories employ more re-
search workers in their single field of investigation than the
Bureau of Standards does for all its many lines of work for
all the industries of the country. The results obtained justify
the large expense for research in the telephone field. The
splendid results obtained are not due merely to the fact that
the work is well managed and is done by a great corporation;
but rather to the fact that abundant resources (provided by
the public) are made available and an adequate scale of
salaries is paid. Government laboratories could do as well if
they had an equal or nearly equal chance; but they can not
work miracles.

248 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE ECONOMIC VALUE OF STANDARDIZATION

The American Engineering Standards Committee has re-
cently been formed to promote engineering and industrial
standardization. Five engineering societies and three depart-
ments of the government were represented initially in its
membership. Several additional member societies have just
been added and others will be added from time to time. The
Committee is already actively at work in selecting sponsor
societies for standardization work and approving standards.
The government is rendering a valuable service to the indus-
tries, and thus to the people, by cooperating actively in this
constructive and useful work. Manufacturers have not co-
operated with one another in the past in standardizing designs
as much as they could have done if there had been some prac-
ticable way of cooperating. They have resented government
dictation and control, but they welcome government coopera-
tion in constructive work that benefits both them and the
public. In many cases the designs and sizes of machines and
materials manufactured by different concerns are different be-
cause development has been independent. In other cases it is
in order to have something upon which to base a claim of
superiority. In either case, too many sizes and designs and
lack of interchangeability increase the cost to the manufac-
turer, to the distributor and to the user. Nothing promotes
economy and efficiency in the use of raw materials and finished
products more than intelligent standardization. It reduces
the varieties and sizes of materials that must be supplied by
the manufacturer, lessens the stocks that must be carried by
the distributor, makes the cost of the finished product less and
reduces the trouble and expense to the user in caring for and
keeping in repair machinery and equipment of all kinds. The
high cost of the services of the plumber have been proverbial
for years. Standardization in plumbing fixtures and fittings,
and interchangeability of parts could be carried further than
it has been. This would greatly reduce the charges for time
and material in making repairs as well as in the original in-
stallation. The enormous and confusing variety of lighting
fixtures, and the bad design of many, are due to utter lack of
standardization or cooperation of the manufacturers with one
another. Inefficient and dangerous gas appliances have been
sold to the public for years, and many are still in use. The
manufacturers can not be blamed, for they can not separately
engage in expensive research to arrive at correct designs. The
only practicable way is for all to cooperate and for the govern-
ment to take an active part, helping the manufacturers to
study these problems of design and standardization intelli-

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 249

gently and thoroughly. Manufacturers are glad to cooperate
in such work. Since the war particularly, the high cost of
labor and material have shown the necessity for economy and
increased efficiency, and manufacturers are welcoming the as-
sistance of the government as never before.

THE DUTY AND OPPORTUNITY OF THE GOVERNMENT

Such work is constructive and wealth producing, and yields
returns a hundredfold upon the investment. The benefit is
almost immediate and not only are there material returns in
decreased costs and improved service, but such cooperation be-
tween the government and the industries is helpful both to the
government and to the industries, and raises the standards of
business. It emphasizes good quality and good performance
and good service, and reduces misrepresentation and exaggera-
tion in selling. Is it not the duty of the government to co-
operate more actively in this constructive way with the
industries? No other agency can perform this important
function. The government would do only a part of the work,
but that part is of great importance. Engineering societies,
manufacturers’ organizations, and individual manufacturing
companies will do their part, and in many cases the greater
part. But if the government refuses to do its part on the
ground that it would increase taxation, the public will not be
satisfied with the reason given when it knows that at the
present time out of $50 per capita per annum collected by
the government for all purposes, scarcely more than one cent
per capita per annum is expended by the government for this
important work, and five cents per year per capita would ac-
complish wonders. The matter is of so fundamental impor-
tance, and promises results of so great economic and social
value, that it is to be hoped that some more adequate effort
along this line may be made. It seems impossible that such
effort would not succeed at least in part, and even a partial
success would more than repay the cost.

The English Journal previously quoted says this of the
government’s part in scientific research. “The endowment of
research and the financing of scientific investigation are essen-
tial in any progressive nation, and if the money is well spent
no amount allocated to these branches can be too great at the
present stage in our country’s history.”

In Great Britain the Engineering Standards Committee is
largely financed by the government, while the Department of
Scientific and Industrial Research is a government body
financed entirely by the government. The American Engi-

250 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

neering Standards Committee and the National Research Coun-
cil (of America) are financed entirely without government aid.
This is an additional reason why government research institu-
tions in America should be so well supported that they can do
their full duty in cooperation with privately supported scien-
tific and industrial institutions which are doing work in the
interest of the public.

GOVERNMENT LABORATORIES AND THEIR TRAINED PERSONNEL
AVAILABLE FOR WAR

The war called for scientific research in connection with
the standardization and making of munitions, finding and
using substitute materials, locating enemy guns by sound and
flash ranging, locating submarines, building and equipping
ships and submarines, building and equipping airplanes, dirig-
ibles and balloons, and many other major subjects as well as
countless minor ones. This called for well-equipped scientific
laboratories and the trained personnel of research workers and
assistants. The government laboratories were utilized to the
limit of their capacity, and all kinds of makeshift facilities
were pressed into service. If preparations had been begun
several years before, it is needless to say results would have
been obtained sooner and the war appreciably shortened. In
view of this experience, and the probability that science and
technology will be no less important in the future than in the
past, the question naturally arises whether the government
is making adequate preparation for scientific research as a
part of its program of military preparedness? In time of war
the civil branches of the government will be called upon imme-
diately for service, and they will be able to render invaluable
service if they are adequately equipped and manned. In the
meantime, pending the arrival of the war, which we hope will
never come, they will be able to render useful service in civil
problems and so be more than self-supporting. This kind of
preparation for war, which adds nothing to the military budget
if the civil departments are adequately supported, should ap-
peal to all as practicable and desirable.

SUMMARY OF THE ARGUMENT

The federal government having emerged from participation
in the world war, finds itself with a large debt and heavy
annual charges caused by the war. These together with the
current cost of the army and navy amount for the present
fiscal year to 92.8 per cent of the total budget. The cost of
public works and the necessary administrative cost of the

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 251

federal government amounts to 6.2 per cent of the total.
There remains one per cent for a large number of govern-
mental activities classed as research, educational and develop-
mental. The question arises whether in the interest of
economy and efficiency the one per cent. shall be decreased; or
because this work is constructive and of great economic value
it should be increased, possibly doubled. The arguments in
favor of increasing it may be summarized as follows:

1. The government should be constructive and helpful to
the people and to business wherever possible. It should de-
velop the industries, assist in improving commercial and in-
dustrial methods, and furnish technical information to manu-
facturers and others, as well as develop agriculture and the
public domain. By rendering such service the government
tends to establish good relations with business, to elevate busi-
ness methods, to increase efficiency and to educate in many
ways large sections of the public. The many services thus
rendered cost very little in the aggregate as compared with the
total expense of the government, but they are of great prac-
tical value and are appreciated by the people. One per cent
of the total expenses of the government spent in this construc-
tive way seems a very small proportion in view of the wide
range and the economic value of such work.

2. But a part of this one per cent is incurred in behalf of
the government itself, to enable the government to purchase its
supplies intelligently and to do business in a business-like way.
Without this research and testing work the government would
waste more in buying than it would save by eliminating the
research and testing. Making purchases without full tech-
nical information is embarrassing to public officials and un-
satisfactory to business; whereas by always using intelligently
drawn specifications and making adequate tests, the govern-
ment can save money, elevate its own service and improve busi-
ness methods. Much but not enough of this kind of work is
now done. It is the duty of the government to set a good
example before the business world of efficient and intelligent
methods and fair dealing; neither accepting goods below the
specified quality nor demanding more than is specified. The
government would spend less for its purchases if it spent more
in standardizing the products purchased and in testing de-
liveries systematically.

3. But apart from the service the government can render
its citizens, and the benefit to the state resulting from scientific,
educational, and developmental work, and apart from the
benefit to the government of having the results of such work
in constructing buildings and other public works, and carry-

252 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ing on its business, this kind of work develops wealth, and the
increased wealth can be taxed, and hence there is a third reason
for increasing such work. The war has made it necessary to
raise many times the revenue formerly required, and the taxa-
tion is now an important issue. Economizing in the use of
raw materials, using cheaper materials, reducing waste, de-
veloping the public domain, increasing manufacturing effi-
ciency, reducing distribution costs, all tend to create wealth
and to make it easier for the government to raise the needed
revenue. Therefore, if there were no other reason, this con-
sideration should appeal to legislators and business men alike;
namely, that research and development work by the govern-
ment develop wealth, and the burden of taxation is thereby
lightened.

4, But there is another powerful economic reason for in-
creasing the productive developmental work of the government.
The rising cost of living not only leads to hardship and dis-
tress, but to industrial unrest, strikes, disorders and great
economic losses to the nation. In order to check rising prices,
and if possible bring down prices, it will be necessary to in-
crease production. To do this it is necessary to reduce waste
and increase efficiency. This requires greater intelligence and
fuller knowledge, and calls for education, the results of scien-
tific investigation and of intelligent and extensive industrial
research. The government could not and should not do it all.
But neither should it refuse to do its part, and its part often
is to take the lead in a constructive and statesmanlike way. It
is stupid and blind to think that because taxes are heavy we
ean not afford to do things intelligently. If a farmer’s barn
burns down, he would not sell half his supply of seed and
fertilizer to buy lumber, and then plant only half a crop. He
would, if necessary, borrow money to buy more seed and plant
a larger crop than usual, in order to increase his income and
pay for the new barn more easily. Intelligent research by the
government, in cooperation with the industries, is like seed and
fertilizer to a farmer. It stimulates production and increases
wealth, and pays for itself many fold. It is as productive and
profitable in peace as in war.

5. Finally, if the reasons already adduced are not sufficient,
there remains the military reason. The development of our
intellectual, moral and material resources is the best prepara-
tion for war. Food and manufacturing facilities, and ade-
quate supplies of raw materials and transportation systems
and scientific attainments and the equipment and trained per-
sonnel available for military research, these together with an

SCIENTIFIC WORK OF THE GOVERNMENT 253

intelligent citizenry and a just cause are the best preparation
for war. A standing army and fleets of battleships are
necessary but not a sufficient preparation, even if the army is
armed to the teeth and the battleships are the heaviest or the
swiftest in the world. The Great War demonstrated that
modern wars are not of armies but of peoples, and their re-
sources and their intellectual and industrial resourcefulness
are more important than the initial equipment of armies and
fleets. Therefore, a government that pays much attention to
education and research and industrial developmental work is
making the best preparation for possible wars of the future.
This fortunately produces good results if war never comes.
By increasing the power and prestige of the nation, such prep-
aration tends to prevent war, and so pays for itself twice over.

CONCLUSION

Probably every one will grant the principle that a govern-
ment should do something to educate the people, and to develop
the industries and the natural resources of the country. It is
only a question of the scope and extent of such work. The
government has already done much, but in comparison with
the needs and the opportunity it is inadequate. Cooperation of
all the people in developing themselves and improving their
condition and securing protection against the selfish and un-
fair efforts of individuals or corporations or groups, is more
necessary in the modern state than formerly. And when the
state contains a hundred million people and covers a continent,
effective cooperation in many cases can be attained only by
government assistance and leadership. Friendly governmental
cooperation and constructive assistance in the industries are
more welcome than regulation and repression. We must have
the latter in some cases, and that is an additional reason why
we should have a generous measure of the former. How far
we should go experience alone can determine. But we should
have the courage to face the facts, to analyze them correctly
and, both in the government and in the nation, to do as well as
we know how. We should strive for a higher and truer effi-
ciency, for efficiency in the government, efficiency in labor,
efficiency in business; and the government should not fail to
do its part, which in many cases is to take the lead. If the
government will cooperate with the industries in peace as
earnestly and effectively as the industries cooperated with the
government in war, it would be of vast benefit to the public,
which pays all the costs.

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THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

DEMOCRACY’S OPPORTUNITY *

By Dr. STEWART PATON
PRINCETON, N. J.

HE present moment is an interesting as well as dramatic
i 5 one in the history of civilization. The recent military
victory of democracy over autocracy marks progress in formu-
lating a reply to the question to what extent man is justified in
having classed himself as homo sapiens. Is he really “the wise
man”? Will it be easier under a democratic than it was under
the autocratic régime to substantiate his claim to the title?
Does his behavior since the war presage that reason henceforth
will count for more than it ever has done in the control of
human affairs? Will democracy be equal to its present oppor-
tunity of assisting in the study of man with the object of
finding out how thought may be liberated from the domineer-
ing control of instinct, custom and precedent, thus replac-
ing eventually a rudimentary rationality by fully developed
reason. In view of what is going on in the world, could any
more important service be rendered to a government than is
expressed in the purpose of this society to study man in order
to find out first, what the forces are in his personality that
would both quicken the development of his reasoning power and
second assist in the gradual elimination from the human race
of those traits that make it easy for man to-day to wish in-
temperately while limiting his capacity to reason connectedly.
These are matters of transcendant importance.

Since eugenics calls for the solution of problems of vital im-
portance to the race this society can not afford to be even indi-
rectly associated with any propaganda or uplift that is purely
emotionally directed and is an indication merely of the wan-
dering of desire. The organizers of this society very wisely
emphasized the word research, and thereby disclaimed all con-
nection with the enthusiasts who rush into the field of eugenics
armed only with good intention. The campaign upon which so
many important issues depend should be very carefully planned.
There are, however, unusual difficulties at present in trying to
effect a rational organization for any purpose. One of the first
steps is to be sure we have correctly visualized our problem.

1 Address of the President of the Eugenics Association.

DEMOCRACY’S OPPORTUNITY 259

An unfortunate effect of the war has been to give us a false
perspective: man’s actual place in nature and the importance
of events in his history once again have been misjudged. We
need to be continually reminded of the fact that, if the history
of the earth’s crust is divided into twenty-four hours, primi-
tive man first appeared on the scene during the last quarter of
an hour, while civilized man—this same man who boasts of
possessing huge armies and enormous guns—has existed for
about twelve seconds!

Once the perspective is corrected, there is more chance that
a few of the various problems perplexing us to-day will be
correctly appraised with the result that we shall take many of
our conventionalized opinions less seriously and shall be in a
better frame of mind to consider, with all its consequences,
whether man is becoming more or less rational. Probably oc-
casional reflection upon the real, not imaginary, place occupied
by man in nature would have a salutary restraining effect upon
those ardent expositors of half-baked schemes for reorganizing
government or improving the race who, unable to distinguish
between the products of wishful- and reality-thinking, have
derived their notions as to what man’s capacity and needs are
from the present very limited supply of facts. Man, while
taking his opinions about himself very seriously, seems to ignore
almost completely his defective self knowledge and except under
pressure steadily refuses to observe the precautions necessary
for making reason a more potent influence in the control of
behavior. In as much as we are inclined to overestimate man’s
capacity for rational thought, we should remember how often
human affairs at present are discussed in a manner that sug-
gests the irritability and censorious manner of a psychoneurotic
personality. A peculiar emotional disposition unfavorable for
the development of reason increases the difficulty in reaching
a just decision in regard to all questions now before the world.
For this reason eugenics has a larger task than that comprised
merely in the acquisition of facts. It depends for success upon
the preparation the human mind has had to accept the truth
whenever it is presented. As preliminary to this success, it is
essential that attention should be given to the various influences
now holding reason in check, and an effort should be made to
remove these and leave man in a better position than he is in
to-day to decide great issues intelligently. This will be a diffi-
cult task requiring both patience and intelligence.

The great question we are facing in the world is not the
adjustment of boundaries, nor the settlement of European

256 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

affairs on a peaceful basis, but the real issue is whether man
is capable of reacting favorably to the appeal of reason. His-
torians say we are passing through a crisis in western civiliza-
tion, statesmen declare the principles of liberty and justice are
jeopardized and that the tragedy predicted by the prophets of
the eighteenth century has been enacted with an indefinite pro-
longation of the tragic epilogue. The significance of all this
trouble expressed in simplest terms, and avoiding all show
of rhetoric, is that man has become unmanageable because he is
not understood. In view of the present confusion of minds
throughout the entire world, and the immediate dangers arising
from egotism and frenzied outbursts of pride and ambition, it
is obvious that any society organized as is the Eugenics Re-
search Association for the express purpose of finding out what
constitute the desirable and undesirable qualities in the human
personality and to do whatever is possible to assist in cultivat-
ing the former and eliminating the latter is actually engaged in
laying the only foundation upon which democracy can ever hope
to build securely.

The functions collectively designated as reason represent a
final stage in man’s long evolutionary history. Rationality is
a collective term for a group of functions only recently ac-
quired. Of course, it is obvious to any intelligent person that
we can not understand either the nature of these functions or
the conditions favorable to their development without a definite
and exact knowledge of man.

Autocracy failed largely because it did not possess this in-
formation and asked to have the world made safe for a system
arbitrarily selected for controlling human behavior. Ger-
many’s effort to control the affairs of the world failed because
little attention had been paid to the study of man as he is.

The success of democracy depends on the cultivation of quite
a different mental attitude towards the great human problem.
We can not afford to imitate the blustering boastful methods
of autocracy, nor to ask to have the world made safe for any
particular system of organized control, until we know what the
forces are that determine mental attitudes, extend the sphere of
reason, and what methods may be used to minimize or eliminate
the influences that distort the mind and give rise to a series of
irrationally constituted opinions and a mental vision blurred by
seeing the world through false refracting media.

The degree of intelligent interest and amount of support
given to any well-organized movement to encourage the study
of man as he is are indications of whether democracy is prepar-

DEMOCRACY’S OPPORTUNITY 257

ing to make good use of its present unique opportunity of plac-
ing reason in control in the direction of human affairs.
Democracy can not endure unless it succeeds in making man
“the true study of man.” In order to attain ultimate success
there must be a clear appreciation of the nature of the methods
to be applied in securing the desired information, and these
methods will now be briefly described. Two distinct lines of
attack are open to us in seeking for information relating to the
laws governing human behavior. In the first place, there is the
analytical method, also described as the elementary point-of-
view, characterized by careful painstaking study of the differ-
ent organs and structures composing the body. In marked
contrast to this method of procedure there is the synthetic
method, the study of the machine as a whole, which unfortu-
nately has not been generally recognized by scientists as being
of equal importance to the former procedure. There can not be
too much analytical research, but, as George Sarton has re-
minded us, this must always be balanced by a corresponding
amount of coordinating work. The detailed information sup-
plied in regard to the parts and different mechanisms of the
human machine must be correlated with what we know about
its behavior as a living organism, adjusting to meet the de-
mands made in the particular environment in which the indi-
vidual lives. The failure to appreciate the value of the in-
formation derived from the study of human beings considered
as living, functioning, biologic organisms has had not only un-
fortunate, but often tragic results. This oversight has resulted
in the attention of physicians and psychologists being devoted
almost exclusively to the use of analytical methods and has
given little opportunity to demonstrate what results can be ac-
complished in explaining the phenomenon of behavior by the
combined use of the two methods. At present, the methods
used in training physicians suggests the mental attitude of those
who work only in repair shops in which the human machine
is taken apart and the different organs examined, but where
little provision exists for following the machine on the road,
observing its behavior and taking note of the immediate effect
of the strain and stress of living as expressed in the complex
functions of the human personality. The disadvantages of
placing too much faith in the efficacy of analytical methods are
easily recognized by those who take an intelligent practical
interest in the subject of eugenics. Every investigator in this
field should be familiar in a general way with the technic of
examining analytically the different organs as practised by
VOL. XI.—17.

258 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

expert clinicians, but in addition there should also be plenty of
opportunity for becoming acquainted with the difficult art of
studying the synthesis expressed in the personality.

Not only is it necessary that the investigator in eugenics
should have some practical experience in the difficult technic of
examining human beings, but it is equally important that he
approach the problem from a broad biological point of view.
He has to consider in the first place the machinery which is the
product of evolution and then equally important is the observa-
tion of variations in behavior as the environment changes. We
are altogether too much inclined when discussing the possibility
of the inheritance of definite functions and traits to treat these
as if they were specific and sharply defined qualities; and this is
not the case: Another mistake often made is the tendency to
regard the transmission of traits of temperament and char-
acter as the result of the functional activity only of the brain
and nervous system. These so-called psychological phenomena
should be discussed as biological reactions of the entire organ-
ism. In other words, we should never forget that the functions
of the brain and nervous system are being continually modified
by the action of other organs. When once we grasp the full
significance of this principle we shall be less inclined to stress
the importance of intelligence tests, or in any way to convey the
impression that the consideration of the functions of any one
organ, or groups of organs, may be correctly gauged without,
taking into account the modification produced in these reactions
by a great many different factors that are too frequently over-
looked or ignored.

Many of the difficulties that man has been obliged to over-
come before discovering a successful method for analyzing his
personality are of his own making. Progress in this direction
has been unnecessarily slow on account of his tendency to create
artificial distinctions in studying physical and mental processes.
We should plainly recognize the fact that the investigator who
approaches the study of man from the specialist’s standpoint
without being thoroughly drilled, not only in general biological
but also in clinical principles, so that he recognizes the integrity
and unity of living organisms, is bound to make serious mis-
takes in interpreting the phenomena of behavior.

Man’s intellectual conceits and personal vanity have also
told heavily against him in the efforts to know himself. He
still discusses his higher intellectual functions as if these had
little connection with the lower forms of adjustment, repre-
sented by adaptations at the physical level or by reactions of

DEMOCRACY’S OPPORTUNITY 259

lower animals. Even if this belief is seldom expressed, the
mental attitude persists that is responsible for the assumption
that persons who have not had practice in the clinic in the study
of the functions of different organs are, without further prep-
aration, equal to the task of analyzing the subjective phe-
nomena represented in the personality. On the other hand,
the assumption is also equally erroneous that investigators
trained solely in the study of the bodily functions are equipped
to undertake the analysis of the mental reactions.

The science of eugenics, as we all know, is still in its infancy,
and its development should be directed along rational lines. A
false step, the result of an enthusiasm often born of the best
intentions, but not held strictly in check by reason, may have
unfortunate results and give some justification to the reproach
that this movement having as its object the improvement of
racial prospects is a fad. The possible good that may even-
tually be accomplished by the selective breeding of human
beings is a subject making such a striking appeal to the active
imagination that the preliminary preparation necessary for the
patient search for the essential facts may be forgotten or com-
pletely ignored.

A moment’s reflection should be sufficient to convince any
one of us that we can not go very far in the study of eugenics
without the assistance of a body of investigators specially
trained in the difficult act of studying the personality. The
data supplied in personality records should be as severely criti-
cized as are the histories of dogs or horses used for breeding
purposes. Our common-sense tells us that the best judge of
the good and bad qualities of these animals is the person who
has had practical experience in studying canine or equine be-
havior coupled with some knowledge of the general anatomy
and physiology of these animals. Exactly the same principle
should be applied to the study of man. We must know some-
thing about human anatomy, physiology and psychology, and
this information must be corrected and supplemented by deduc-
tions based upon the observation of the daily life of these be-
ings. There are very few investigators trained in the art of
observing human behavior. A good many people, speaking in
relative terms, understand parts of the machinery and judge its
performance from the angle of the physiologist or that of the
psychologist interested in some particular aspect of adjustment,
but there are relatively very few possessing this information
who are able to tell us much about the reactions of the machine
as a whole to the conditions actually met with in life. A

260 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

personality can not be judged correctly from the standpoint of
either physiologist or psychologist. The specialist’s approach
to the problem should be broadened out so as to include the in-
formation relating to the daily life of an individual, giving some
indication of how obstacles are met, overcome, or avoided.

Eugenics is confronted by the same difficulty in securing
thoroughly trained observers that has been such a serious ob-
stacle in the path of modern psychiatry. Relatively little in-
terest is taken in the medical schools in disorders of behavior,
and practically little attention is paid to training students in
the complicated art of analyzing character. This indifference
of the general as well as medical public to the need of making
adequate provision for investigating the disorders of conduct
usually described as nervous and mental diseases has had most
disastrous consequences.

The high rate of incidence of specific nervous and mental
disorders as well as the increasing symptoms of nervousness
has become a menace to our civilization. The point to which
we wish to direct attention especially at present is that the in-
difference of the medical profession, as well as of the public, to
the study of human behavior has not only been largely respon-
sible for the increase in these diseases, but it has created a seri-
ous difficulty in developing the science of eugenics. The fact
.that we know so very little about the laws governing human
behavior and the organization of the personality has led, on the
one side, to conditions peculiarly favorable for the increase of
nervous and mental maladjustments and, on the other hand, has
deprived us of the knowledge necessary for carrying on an
effective campaign to eliminate the unfit and to conserve the
qualities essential for human progress.

The following summary of the replies to the questionaire
sent by Mr. H. H. Laughlin to the deans of medical schools
in the country will give some indication of the little attention
paid to the study of eugenics.

I. No special course given and no interest exhibited in replying

40 GUESEIONDAITE (5 Aioric ie als atehe aie late fo eee aera |S aR Uaioe alateheta ereipeeae 14

II. No special course, but subject treated in work of various de-
PDATGINSTUGS irene os oiroifal ch ovete: otattalls Vatleliovel se) ofelofolel olalicliede «/ePelol eich aieve crenenelere iil

III. No special institution, but hope to organize courses when means
ALS VAVAADIS. isis orvaneretshaateremeteraierctoruke cies ale erahe toler (oe eretenrerae 1
IV. No courses, but suggestions welcomed ..........-.scccesceeee 3
Ve, (Samevas Ul butiiexpresses| marked interest esac soccer 5
VI. Same as II, but also is taught in connection with sociology.... 2

VII. No special courses given. Eugenics referred to in connection
with one of following subjects—surgery, pathology, embryol-
OLY; ANAtOMY, | ZOOLOLY \y.)c i> ereis a) aeioiels (o/eieteelielouelale crave ershetareletens ibs

DEMOCRACY’S OPPORTUNITY 261

VIII. Express regret that no instruction is given .......++-++++ee0- al
IX. Referred for information to other members of the faculty, from

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MEUSeHGO! GISCONLINUCO— LOTAL Lijec since acceccsvcsdvansdaseaeee 53

The work of gathering together a body of well-trained in-
vestigators would be aided materially by establishing scholar-
ships in our medical schools for those intending to pursue the
study of eugenics. For some time we should not attempt to do
more than to carry on a campaign with the object of eliminating
the unfit. In order to determine what the undesirable quali-
ties are, it is necessary that those conducting the examinations
should be capable of determining to what extent the environ-
ment has become a potent factor in changing the personality.
In order to do this an examiner should be thoroughly conversant
with methods used by the modern psychiatrist in the examina-
tion of patients. It is very often the case that undesirable
qualities supposed to be transmitted directly by inheritance
prove upon examination to be merely the results of repressions
in members of a family who have tried to adjust themselves
to an environment unsuited to their biological requirements. A
change in the surroundings may lead to astonishing results and
the supposedly inherited biological tendencies are quickly re-
placed by more successful forms of adjustment. We do not
refer, of course, to the cases of mental defects due to organic
causes and which are evidently a direct product of inheritance.
We should not make the mistake, however, of entrusting the
diagnosis of mental defectiveness to those whose limit of experi-
ence in the examination of human beings makes it necessary for
them to draw sharp artificial lines of distinction between phys-
ical and mental reactions.

A great deal of work is yet to be accomplished in laying the
foundations of the science of eugenics before positive direct
recommendations for improving the racial prospects are made
to the public; except urging the use of selective methods in
breeding to eliminate the unfit. Careful consideration should
be given to the problem of training investigators in the very
difficult part of studying the personality. The analysis of
temperament and character can not be undertaken successfully
by amateurs. Something could be done to improve the methods
used in the study of personalities in relation to the problem of
eugenics by establishing fellowships in the medical schools for
investigators intending to enter this special field of research.
A good deal may also be accomplished in this same direction by
improving the facilities for making personality studies that are

262 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

present in the psychiatric clinics. The assistants who are to
direct the work of analyzing human predispositions and the
special traits of character and intelligence will be drawn chiefly
from those having had experience in the work of these clinics.
While we are discussing the foundations upon which the science
of eugenics should be established, we should not omit a refer-
ence to the scant provision now made for the study of the
brain and nervous system. We are accustomed to refer to
normal and abnormal conditions in the structure and functions
of these organs as if exact standards of comparison had already
been established; and this is not the case. Practically little is
known about the great mechanism of adjustment, and it is as-
tounding how indifferent man seems to be in regard to his most
recently acquired and valued possession, his new brain. Ade-
quate provision should be made for studying the nervous system
as this field of investigation has important connection with the
science of eugenics.

The crisis confronting us to-day is a real one, and many
people are gradually becoming conscious of the significance of
the problem upon which current events are forcing a decision.
Behind discussion about social readjustments, rearrangement
of international boundaries, and a League of Nations, all of
which are practically minor issues, stands the open question
whether man is entitled to be designated as “‘homo sapiens.”
Do the events through which we are passing mark the begin-
ning or end of the period of rational thought in the evolution
of man. Is the triumph of democracy the beginning of a de-
cline to the dead level of mediocrity? We have accustomed
ourselves to rely upon wishful-thinking for answer to these
questions. Probably if we decide to make the effort, an intelli-
gent reply can be formulated. If democracy assists in making
man the true study of man, the chances are that intelligence will
become a much more dominant factor in the control of human
behavior while mankind will be in a better position both to
judge what the racial prospects are and to accept and apply the
teachings of eugenics.

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 263

THE METHOD OF PROCEDURE IN THE
ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY

By Professor CHARLES ZELENY
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

HATEVER @econception we may have of the essential
nature of the activities of living things, it must be
agreed that as time goes on more and more of them can be pic-
tured in terms of demonstrable mechanical models. I shall
leave to others the questions: Why does the biologist get any
satisfaction out of such constructions and why does he not
rather busy himself with the determination of absolute values?
The first step toward a satisfactory basis for the under-
standing of the nature of the transmission of hereditary quali-
ties was the proof that organisms as we know them are never
derived from non-living things. They are always separated
parts of a parental organism something like themselves. This
simple proposition was not demonstrated until the last cen-
tury. From the earliest times it was commonly believed that
certain animals at least can be generated from non-living ma-
terial by the action of external agents. If such a generation is
possible it seriously affects our notions regarding the trans-
mission of hereditary qualities. As far as we now know every
organism starts as part of a preexisting organism. Our ques-
tion then is the manner in which this part of the parental body
carries the qualities of the future adult individual.

That the qualities of the separated part or germ cell are
really of great importance in the development of the new
individual, as compared with environmental forces, may be
readily demonstrated by placing a fish egg and a frog’s egg
side by side in a dish of water. The surroundings are the
same for both and yet one develops into a fish and the other
into a frog. No environmental differences can produce effects
at all comparable with these. The relation of these biological
facts to certain sociological theories is obvious. The primary
differences between human beings as between other organisms
are due to hereditary factors and not to environmental factors.

Some have claimed that one egg develops into a fish be-
cause it has a non-material force or entelechy which wants it
to develop into a fish while the other egg has an entelechy
which wants to it develop into a frog. If it were impossible to

264 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

make out any units of a lower order than the eggs, if they
were the ultimate particles with no visible differences between
them, in despair of any other explanation one might postulate
that differences in their activities are due to such non-material
forces, This is no more than the physicist does with his ulti-
mate particles, though he does not often admit it. On the
other hand, more physicists than biologists are anxious to
prove that the smallest known particles_of organisms have
souls. ma

However, since the egg is not an ultimate particle and it
is possible to make out something of the structure and activi-
ties of its various parts, the biologist tries to picture to himself
the way in which these parts are related to the adult char-
acteristics. He tries to determine how they would act if they
were large enough to be handled.

PREFORMATION AND EPIGENESIS

From the time of the earliest philosophers some have denied
the problem of individual development by claiming that the
egg contains the parts of the adult in miniature and that de-
velopment is merely an enlargement of these parts. On the
other hand, some have denied the presence of structure within
the egg and have claimed that development starts with no
structure and gradually works toward the complexity of the
adult. It will not be worth while to follow here the early
history of this controversy between the preformationists or
evolutionists, as they were called, and the opposing school of
the epigeneticists. It may suffice to say that opinion alternated
from one extreme to the other. In the seventeenth century,
when the first compound microscopes were used to examine
eggs and spermatozoa, the observers were so convinced that
the human body was present in miniature that they promptly
found it there and published their findings in elaborate draw-
ings of the little mannikin with its limbs nicely folded up like
the petals in a flower bud. Those of us who have had to do
with students in biological laboratories recognize that people
have not changed in this regard during the centuries. It is
still very easy to see what you are looking for and still very
hard to see things that do not fit into your preconceived notion.

With the construction of better microscopes it was soon
made evident that the little mannikins do not exist and there
was an early swing of opinion to the opposite extreme. Prac-
tically all biologists became epigeneticists, claiming that the egg

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 265

is a homogeneous protoplasm in which the adult structures
are gradually developed.

Since the middle of the last century, however, there has
been a gradual return from this extreme position. Improve-
ment in microscope lenses has made possible a rapid advance
in the knowledge of the structure of organisms. It has been
shown that organisms are made up of smaller units, the cells,
that the ovum and spermatozoon are such units and that all
the numerous cells of the adult body are derived from the
subdivision of a single cell, the fertilized ovum. Furthermore,
it was shown that there is a complicated but very definite
mechanism within all cells). Experimental work has demon-
strated a specific relation between this mechanism within the
egg and the adult structure. The general trend, therefore,
is toward a modified preformation. The parts of the adult
are not entirely unrepresented in the egg, as in the view of the
extreme epigeneticists, nor are they represented by exact
miniatures, as in the view of the extreme preformationists or
evolutionists. Instead there is a recognition of a definite,
specific relation between certain structures and activities in
the egg and certain other structures and activities in the adult.

NUCLEUS AND CYTOPLASM

The first step in the analysis is the recognition of the dif-
ference in function between the cytoplasm and the nucleus of
the egg. Within the egg as in every cell two portions can be
recognized, a central body called the nucleus surrounded by the
remaining substance called the cytoplasm. During the last
fifty years a large amount of evidence has been collected which
proves that the nucleus and cytoplasm have different functions
not only in the ordinary life of the cell, but also in their rela-
tions to the transmission of hereditary qualities.

Histological studies have shown that the visible differences
in the different tissues of an organism are almost wholly if
not wholly in their cytoplasms. The essential differences that
we make out between the different cells of the body have to do
with cytoplasmic structures. Thus the muscle fibrils, the nerve
fibers, the pigment granules and similar modifications in the
tissues are all cytoplasmic. There is reason to believe, how-
ever, that the nucleus has some causal connection with their
appearance.

It has been demonstrated that while both nucleus and
cytoplasm must be present in order that development may

266 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

occur, they are by no means of equal value in the process. In
certain eggs if the nucleus is left undisturbed the greater part
of the cytoplasm may be removed without affecting the de-
velopment of a complete normal individual, and it does not
matter what part is so removed. Thus while the nucleus alone
can not develop, a small amount of cytoplasm from any loca-
tion is sufficient to cause it to do so. On the other hand, when
the cytoplasm remains intact not only the removal of a part
of the nucleus, but even a disarrangement of its materials is
sufficient to prevent the development of a normal individual.

Another point in the evidence is the fact that, while on the
whole the female and male parents contribute equally toward
the qualities of the child, the cytoplasmic contribution of the
spermatozoon is negligible in amount. On the other hand,
the amount of nuclear material furnished by egg and sperma-
tozoon is essentially equal in amount and, as we shall see, this
similarity applies to the details of nuclear structure. Further-
more, the nucleus and not the cytoplasm contains a mechanism
in agreement with the facts of experimental breeding.

THE CHROMOSOMES

It is in the nucleus then that we are bound to seek this
further mechanism of heredity. Our evidence for such a con-
clusion has been accumulating very rapidly during recent
years, and it is not possible to do more than give some of the
striking points.

A detailed microscopical study has shown that. there is
within the nucleus a material, called chromatin because of its
affinity for certain dyes, which behaves in a remarkable manner
during each cell division. This material is present in the
period between cell divisions in the form of granules. Pre-
ceding a cell division, these granules arrange themselves in a
row or rows, producing a thread or threads of granules which
soon break up into definite segments or chromosomes. These
chromosomes are perfectly definite bodies, always the same
in number in any species of animal, always breaking up into
their constituent granules between cell divisions and always
being built up again at every cell division from the egg to the
adult. A beautiful structure somewhat resembling the dia-
grams of a magnetic field is then developed, with two poles,
the centrosomes, and with radiations extending in all direc-
tions from them. The rays passing from one pole to the other
constitute what is known as the spindle. The chromosomes

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 267

arrange themselves in a transverse plane at the center of this
spindle, each one splits longitudinally, and the two halves travel
to opposite poles. The cell then constricts at its equator and
two daughter cells are produced each containing a longitudinal
half of each of the chromosomes. The whole elaborate mechan-
ism has this one important function of bringing about the
exact distribution of chromatin material, so that each daughter
cell gets not only the same total amount as the other, but also
exactly the same amount of each part of each chromosome.
By the repetition of this process every cell in the adult body
finally has exactly the same chromosomal complement as every
other cell.

It follows from this fact that, on the chromosomal
hypothesis, every cell contains a complete set of developmental
determiners. Then, why do some cells form muscles, others
nerves, still others connective tissue and so on? Weismann’s
theory involved the assumption that the cell divisions were
actually qualitative and that the different cells of the body
obtain different complements of chromatin. As stated there
is no observational basis for such a conclusion. We are there-
fore forced to the hypothesis that each cell has all of the ma-
terials and the question of why it uses some and not others
remains to be solved by other means. The discussion of this
problem, however, can not be undertaken here.

There is an interesting modification of this process of equai
distribution of chromosomes, during the last two divisions of
the germ-cells, those immediately preceding the time when they
are ready for fertilization. During the early divisions of the
germ cells there is no essential difference between them and
other cells, but at one of the last two divisions instead of the
ordinary procedure of a longitudinal splitting of each of the
chromosomes which would insure the original number in each
of the daughter cells, there is no splitting at all. Two whole
chromosomes come to lie side by side in the equator of the
spindle and each of the daughter or mature germ cells gets a
half of the total number. There is thus a reduction to one
half of the original number of chromosomes. This takes place
in both the male and the female germ cells. For a reason to be
mentioned presently, it is customary to speak of this reduced
number as » and of the number in the division of ordinary
cells as 2n. It is obvious since spermatozoon and mature ovum
each contain » chromosomes that when they unite in fertiliza-
tion the 2” number is restored.

There are a number of other interesting points in connec-
tion with this reduction in the number of chromosomes. It

268 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

has been shown that a mature unfertilized egg may be caused
to start development in other ways than by union with a
spermatozoon. The method is not important, since the same
result may be brought about by a great many different kinds
of agents, as chemical change in the medium, osmotic change,
rapid change in temperature, pricking with a needle or even
by shaking. The cells of individuals developed in this way
have only the n set of chromosomes from the ovum, yet they
produce complete individuals. Likewise, a small piece of the
cytoplasm of the egg without any nucleus may be entered by a
spermatozoon, and the nucleus of the resulting fusion contains
only the n chromosomes of the male. Yet a whole individual
results again. It is clear, therefore, that if the chromosomes
contain the essential factors in the development of the char-
acters of the individual, the egg contains a complete set of
such factors and the spermatozoon contains another complete
set. The fertilized egg and all of the cells of the body derived
from it must therefore contain a double set.

This is in agreement with the facts obtained by experi-
mental breeding as first made out by Mendel in 1866. Since
its rediscovery in 1900 the principle involved in the so-called
Mendelian inheritance has been shown to be a general one. A
great many hundreds of characters in both animals and plants
have been shown to follow it.

The essential point in these phenomena, as pointed out by
Mendel before there was any knowledge of a chromosomal
mechanism, is that the body of an organism contains a double
set of factors, one or more pairs for each of its characters.
Any character then is dependent upon the presence of at least
two factors, one derived from the male and the other from the
female, and these two factors must separate again when the
sex cells are produced. Each sex cell then can have only one
member of the original pair. Of course, this fact can only be
demonstrated when the factor coming from the male is differ-
ent from that coming from the female, as in hybridization. If
in such a case we call the factor coming from one parent A
and that from the other parent a, then the resulting individual
will have the constitution Aa. When it produces sex cells half
of them must carry A alone and the other half a alone in order
to get the proportions obtained in experimental breeding which
are one fourth with AA, one half with Aa and one fourth with
aa. As Mendel observed, the A and the a show no contamina-
tion as a result of their intimate association within the same
body. They are as pure as they were in the original parents.

Mendel showed further that in case there is present in the

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 269

same mating another pair of characters due to another pair
of factors as B and Bb, their distribution is independent of the
distribution of A anda. In the second hybrid generation there
is thus a combination of characters which is the one to be ex-
pected on the view of independent assortment of the two pairs
of factors.

It happens that the behavior of the chromosomes is such as
to furnish an ideal mechanism for this distribution of factors.
If we place the hypothetical factors for the Mendelian char-
acters in the chromosomes of our model they are distributed in
exactly the proper way to give rise to the numerical propor-
tions of Mendel’s law.

Differences in the factors contained do not, however, as a
rule cause visible differences in the chromosomes which carry
them. There is only a single demonstrated case of such a dif-
ference and that is in the inheritance of sex. This case is
therefore of the greatest interest. In order to make the ex-
planation as simple as possible, I shall take only one of the
kinds of differences that have been made out. In a great many
animals there is an exception to the rule that 27 chromosomes
are present in the cells of the body. Instead there are 2n—1
chromosomes in the cells of the males, while the females have
the ordinary number 2n. When mature eggs are being pro-
duced there is the ordinary reduction in the number of chromo-
somes to one half and all obtain ~ chromosomes. In the
spermatozoa there can not be such an equality because 2n—1
is an odd number. Accordingly, when the chromosomes pair
off in preparation for the maturation divisions, one is left with-
out a mate. One of the daughter cells obtains n chromosomes
and the other only n—1. Accordingly, half of the sperma-
tozoa are of one kind and half of the other. It follows that
since all eggs are alike in having m chromosomes the result of
random or non-selective mating gives half of the individuals
with 2n chromosomes, or the number in the female body cells,
and half with 2n—1 the number in the male body cells.

Another result follows from this consideration. If the
factors for other characters than sex are located in these
chromosomes they should be distributed according to a scheme
differing from that of other characters. This follows from
the fact that in the case of such characters half of the sperma-
tozoa should lack entirely any factor for them. Numerous
such sex-linked characters are known.

If the chromosomal hypothesis is correct, it follows further
that the number of independently heritable characters as far
as random distribution is concerned should be limited to the

270 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

number of pairs of chromosomes in the species in question. If
the factors for two characters are located in the same chromo-
some they should go together or be linked according to the
technical expression. Such linkage has been demonstrated
frequently. Furthermore, there is no known case in which
there are more independent groups of linked characters than
there are pairs of chromosomes. The form in which the
heredity of the greatest number of characters has been worked
out is the fruit fly Drosophila with over 200 to its credit.
There are only four pairs of chromosomes and correspond-
ingly the characters are linked in inheritance in four groups.
Furthermore, one of the four pairs of chromosomes is very
small and correspondingly one of the linked groups of char-
acters is much smaller than the others.

This striking mass of evidence from normal inheritance is
confirmed by the experiments with abnormal distribution of
chromosomes. The two cases I shall choose in illustration ap-
proach the problem from opposite sides.

Boveri produced an abnormal distribution of the chromo-
somes during the first cleavage of the egg by inducing two
spermatozoa to enter the egg at once. He then separated the
daughter cells. This was in the sea-urchin egg, a form in
which under normal conditions separated cells produce com-
plete individuals. Only a certain percentage of these daughter
cells had full sets of chromosomes. The same percentage de-
veloped into complete individuals.

Bridges attacked the problem from the other side. In
some of his fruit-fly material the inheritance of the characters
did not follow the ordinary Mendelian formula. He figured
out the kind of chromosomal abnormality that would yield such
a result. He decided that the breeding data would follow if,
in the maturation of the egg cell, the members of the pair of
chromosomes involved did not separate as in normal reduction,
but went to the same pole, leaving one of the daughter cells
with both members of the pair and the other without any.
An examination of these cells made after the formulation of
this explanation showed that such an abnormal separation had
actually occurred.

These experiments with irregular distribution clinch the
argument that the chromosomes are the bearers of factors
having to do with the appearance of characters.

THE CHROMOMERES

Within the last few years an extension of our knowledge
has shown that the chromosomes can not be considered as the

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 271

elementary units in the transmission of hereditary qualities.
An analysis of the differences in value between different parts
of individual chromosomes is therefore being made.

The possibility of such an analysis was already indicated
by the microscopical observations previously mentioned, which
showed that the chromosomes are themselves made up of rows
of granules. These individual granules are known as chromo-
meres. It will be recalled that when the chromosomes are
' formed during cell division each one is made up by the coming
together of the granules present in the resting stage of the cell.
A large number of cytological observations have made it seem
probable that when a chromosome breaks up into its con-
stituent granules or chromomeres at the end of a cell division,
these granules do not mix up with others in the nucleus, but
occupy a definite region in it. This is made out especially well
in certain lobed nuclei in which the separate regions belonging
to the individual chromosomes can be definitely mapped out.
It is probable therefore that the same granules form homo-
logous chromosomes in succeeding cell generations.

It follows also from the nature of the division of a chromo-
some that when it splits longitudinally into two equal parts, each
granule or chromomere is also split into two equal parts and,
therefore, each daughter cell obtains not only a half of each
of the chromosomes, but also a half of each of the constituent
granules. Each cell of the completed body, therefore, has its
equal share of each of the minute chromatin granules present
in the egg.

Supposing each granule or chromomere to represent a dif-
ferent kind of material, each cell of the organism has a com-
plete set of materials. All the cells are then qualitatively alike
in this respect. The quantitative relations are restored be-
tween succeeding cell divisions by growth, as each chromomere
is able to build up new material like itself.

It is probable that here in the chromomeres are elements
in the mechanism of heredity of a lower order than the chromo-
somes. If the chromomeres of a chromosome always stick
together or if the linkage of characters within a group is never
broken there is no way of testing such a hypothesis. Fortu-
nately we have evidence from both sides of such a breaking of
linkage.

From the side of experimental breeding, evidence has ac-
cumulated that while, according to the hypothesis that the
chromosomes are indivisible units, linked characters should
stick together, they do not always do so. This breaking of the
linkage was subjected to careful study, particularly in the

272 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fruit fly, Drosophila, and it was shown that the breaking never
takes place in the formation of the spermatozoa but only in the
formation of the eggs. Furthermore, taking a linked group
such as that which is found in the same chromosome as the
sex-determining factor, the percentage of breaking of the link-
age between any two factors is fairly constant. If the per-
centages between characters a and b and between b and ¢ are
known, that between a and ¢ is either the sum or the difference
of the others. The fifty or so characters in this linked group
all fit into this linear arrangement. A line with the factors
located upon it can be drawn, in which the distance between
any two points, representing the location of factors, cor-
responds to the percentage of breaking of linkage between
those two points. Such diagrams have been carefully con-
structed. For instance, the percentage of separation of the
characters yellow body and white eye is 1.2, of white eye and
bifid wing 3.5, and of yellow body and bifid wing 4.7, or the
sum of the other two.

As stated, this linear arrangement, in which the distance
between any two factors is proportional to the percentage of
separation of the characters, is fairly consistent but not
wholly so. There is a tendency for the high values calculated
from the sums of two components to be somewhat higher than
the actual ones. The suggested explanations will be given
later.

It is perfectly natural to suppose that this linear arrange-
ment on the basis of percentage of separation of the factors in
breeding may represent an actual linear arrangement within
the chromosomes. This necessitates the postulate that the
chromatin granules as they pass from the resting stage pre-
ceding a cell division always arrange themselves in the same
definite, fixed order when they form a chromosome. It is only
recently that there has been any cytological evidence bearing
on this point.

Assuming that the granules actually do lie in a fixed order,
to explain the facts of the breaking of linkage it is necessary
to discover a mechanism by which the granules of one chromo-
some may be exchanged for those of its mate as the two lie
side by side at the beginning of the maturation divisions of
the egg.

It will be remembered that the two chromosomes which lie
side by side in this manner come from separate parents. It
was supposed that they always separate as units, but it has
been known for some years that they frequently twist around
each other, and may indeed seem to fuse at the point where one

9

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 273

crosses the other. It was supposed until recently that when
the members of the pair separate to travel toward opposite
poles they have undergone no exchange of material. If, how-
ever, there is a real union at the nodes it is perfectly probable
that parts of the two may be interchanged. For instance, if
we take the case of a single twist, one end of chromosome A
may be united with the other end of chromosome B, on the one
side of the figure, with the reverse relation, on the other side.
A factor located near one end of a chromosome is thus sepa-
rated from one located near the other end. It is obvious that
the nearer together two factors are within a chromosome the
less chance there is that the crossing over of a twist will come
between them. The percentage of such separation of char-
acters in experimental breeding may then be taken as a
measure of the distance apart of the factors in the chromosome
assuming that the “twistability” of the chromosome is the
same at all points. It is further natural to assume that the
chromomeres are the seats of these separate factors.

It has already been mentioned that the percentage of sepa-
ration between a and c tends to be somewhat less than the sum
of the percentages between a and b and between 6b and e.
This may be explained on the supposition that two twists some-
times take place between the more widely separated points
and the result of two twists is the same as that of no twist as
far as the factors in question are concerned. The percentage
is therefore decreased for the greater distances. That such
double crossing over occurs has been proved in other ways.

The fact of twisting of chromosomes has actually been ob-
served in a number of cases, but the behavior of the chromo-
meres is hard to make out with any degree of certainty because
they are near the limit of visibility even under the highest
powers of the microscope. It is impossible, therefore, at pres-
ent, to confirm by actual observation of the hereditary sub-
stance the hypothesis of exchange of material between the
chromosomes in the manner just described. On the whole, the
general evidence is favorable to the view, but there are still a
number of difficulties. One of these has to do with the fact
that crossing over takes place only in the female.

As far as the sex linked characters are concerned there is
no difficulty, because in the male the sex chromosome either
has no mate or has one with which no crossing over can occur.
It is only in the female that crossing over is possible and the
cytological evidence, therefore, is in agreement with the data
of experimental breeding. With regard to the characters that

vou. x1.—18.

274 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

are not sex linked, there is, however, no satisfactory cyto-
logical explanation of the difference between male and female.
A careful study is now being made by several workers particu-
larly of the more difficult female material, and it is to be hoped
that some definite conclusion may be reached on this important
point.

Castle has recently attempted to show that a closer ap-
proximation to the data of percentage relations may be ob-
tained by supposing that the factors do not have a strict linear
arrangement. The hypothesis has also to meet difficulties due
to the fact that the percentage of crossing over may be changed
in various ways, though none of these changes affects the linear
arrangement.

On the whole, the chromomere hypothesis still lacks some
important elements before it can compare with the chromo-
some hypothesis in degree of demonstration. It has, how-
ever, already led to a number of very important discoveries
regarding the method of inheritance and can therefore be said
to have justified itself.

CONCLUSION

By correlating the data from experimental breeding with
those from the microscopical examination of the germ cells,
the biologist has been able to demonstrate the existence of a
mechanism which explains many things about the manner in
which characters are transmitted from generation to genera-
tion. To a large extent, the model is based upon the action
of parts actually visible and clear to all observers. As the
limit of visibility under the highest powers of the microscope
is approached, as in the case of the chromomeres, there is how-
ever, a difference of opinion as to the facts. The imagination
then comes into play and it may be that some of the structures
figured are purely creatures of the imagination, just as the
mannikins of the seventeenth-century observers were. This
probability, however, does not invalidate the clearly demon-
strated features of the model.

Having this model in mind, the biologist can plan manipula-
tions similar to those which he would practise upon a machine
large enough for the parts to be handled directly. A very
great many discoveries of importance in the field of heredity
have been the results of such imaginary manipulations.

But the biologist is not content to stop with the visible ele-
ments of his model. The cell, the nucleus and cytoplasm, the
chromosomes and perhaps the chromomeres, are definite parts
of a mechanical model that works in practise. But why do the

THE ANALYSIS OF HEREDITY 275

chromomeres act as they do? Why is one different in its
action from others? The biologist now becomes a philosopher.
He tries to picture to himself further extensions of the model
he has built so far, on the basis of demonstrable data. On the
basis of past achievement he is inclined to believe that the
chromomeres differ in their action because they differ in struc-
ture and related function. Therefore they are not the ulti-
mate units of the structure. It is natural for him to try to
connect them with the units of the physicist and chemist, the
so-called chemical elements and the electrons. But the gap
between his model and that of the physicist is still too great to
enable him to make any considerable use of the latter. The
method of procedure in the two cases is much the same, but
perhaps the construction of the physicist is the more specula-
tive one.

As I have said, when the biologist comes to the last demon-
strable elements of his model he is inclined to suppose that in
the future it may be indefinitely extended by the same method
of procedure which he has previously pursued and that it may
at some time be linked up with the units of the physicists.
Curiously enough, several eminent physicists have strongly
contested such a possibility. They seem much more inclined
than are the biologists to put a limit upon such an extension
and to assume the existence of non-material factors. Perhaps
they do not realize what the biologist knows all too well,
namely, the hopeless sterility in the past of all such ideas of
non-material factors. The devising of non-material factors is
an interesting mental exercise. Men have been busy with it
from the earliest times. But there is no indication that any
considerable advance in our knowledge of organisms has been
obtained in that way. Of course this does not prove that the
truth may not lie in that direction. Since the great majority
of people find satisfaction in postulating such non-material
forces in explanation of observed activities, it is perhaps well
that the small minority who find some satisfaction in construct-
ing their incomplete mechanical models will never be able to
make their models complete. For no matter how far such
models are extended they will always finally end up in units,
which will furnish opportunity for the ever-ready remark,
“ Aha! there you have something which your model does not
explain. Must you not assume a non-material factor to ex-
plain its action?” The only answer that can be given is the
one already stated—that as time goes on more and more of the
activities of living things can be pictured in terms of demon-
strable mechanical models.

bo
—~I
fo»)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A SIMPLIFIED MUSICAL NOTATION

By EDWARD V. HUNTINGTON
PROFESSOR OF MECHANICS, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

With an Introduction

By ARCHIBALD T. DAVISON
ASSOCIATE PROFESSOR OF MUSIC, HARVARD UNIVERSITY

INTRODUCTION

The complications of musical notation have been for genera-
tions the despair of students, teachers, theorists, and execu-
tants. Difficulties attendant on reading music in various keys
and clefs, in correctly performing elaborate groups of chromatic
notes, and in selecting, for composition, one enharmonic use as
being more suitable than another—these, with other difficul-
ties, have not only retarded the progress of musical education,
but have actually prevented multitudes from coming into direct
association with music. It is indeed paradoxical that music,
which, of all the arts, makes the most instant appeal, should
have so hedged itself about with complicated and confusing
symbols. By a process simple, logical, and musically sound,
Professor Huntington has destroyed the terrors of chromatic
notation.

Many persons reading the title of this article and observing
the author to be by profession a mathematician will say, “ This
is probably some scientific speculation. There is no chance that
our notation will be changed, so why read all this?”’ But open-
minded and intellectually honest musicians will read these para-
graphs, and will ask themselves a very different sort of
question. A. T. DAVISON

A SIMPLIFIED MUSICAL NOTATION

HE purpose of this paper is to present a new musical nota-
T tion which, while retaining all the excellent features of
the present notation, would, it is believed, greatly simplify the
processes of reading, studying and composing musical scores.

The plan is not one of the artificial mnemonic devices of
which the literature is full, but is based directly on the funda-
mental principle of modern music, namely, the equi-tempered

4For a critical account, see C. F. Abdy Williams, “‘ The Story of Nota-
tion,” Scribners, 1903.

A SIMPLIFIED MUSICAL NOTATION 277

scale. This scale, introduced by J. S. Bach about two centuries
ago, and now dominating all musical composition, makes use of
only twelve notes in each octave, these twelve notes dividing the
octave into twelve mathematically equal intervals, called semi-
tones. Now, if we draw an ordinary five-line staff with one
ledger line, we see that exactly twelve notes can be accommo-
dated on the lines and spaces of such a staff. What is then
more natural than to assign one place on the staff to each of
the twelve notes of the scale, thus doing away with all “ sharps”
and “ flats,” and representing every musical interval correctly
to the eye as well as to the ear? This, in brief, is precisely the
plan here proposed.

The details are easily completed. We assign the notes com-
monly known as C, C# or Db, D, etc., to the places indicated in
Fig. 1.

In speaking of the note “C# or Db” in conversation, either
name may be used indifferently, since the two names (in the
modern temperament) are simply synonyms for the same note.
But in reading or writing a score, on the proposed plan, this
single note is represented by a single degree of the staff, un-
modified by any sharps or flats. In other words, every note
used in modern music has one and only one place on the staff,
and every degree of the staff represents one and only one note.

Moreover, the proposed representation of every octave is
simply a repetition of every other octave, so that no “clefs”

(treble, 6: base, ©:; tenor, B; etc.) are required. The suc-

cessive octaves from low bass to high treble may conveniently
be numbered consecutively from 1 to 8, “middle C” falling
between the fourth and fifth octaves, as shown in Fig. 2.

This Fig. 2 illustrates how clearly the range of pitch of any
musical instrument can be exhibited in the new notation. The
striking contrast between the old method and the new in this
respect is shown in Fig. 3, the data for which are taken from
Cecil Forsyth’s “ Orchestration ’’ (Macmillan, 1914).

The chief merit of the new plan is that every musical in-
terval, and hence the structure of every musical chord, is repre-

278 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sented correctly to the eye by the relative distances between the
notes on the staff.

For example, the intervals in Fig. 4a and Fig. 4b, which
look so different in the old notation, are really equal intervals,
represented in the new notation as in Fig. 4c.

This direct correspondence between the ear-interval and the

ORDINARY RANGE OF CERTAIN INSTRUMENTS

Data from C.Forsyth'sOrchestration(1914). “Normatized” by E.V. Huntington, 1920.
Resid hate nals ihe bail cahaelie Behave Mlle

S AS
=} [e) E-

we Y © ais we" sae
a ~) 4 uv ° = +» oe 3 v
a oO >,u0% ¢ 4 ot 2 ~
yk Q, are ete) sO 2 2s
© —5°0 QQ eS SQ: Bice = fairey eos
6) Sie Soe ears Oni g —_ E Care
312,808 NSH VSS oe 235483 sis =x*
od a oe ° _ Soca Che ide 3 ut =
e >>00 af Sto5 tt5oma F238 ie
Se J = bh) el hms ui Us" aa

i... oe ee >

I =z = :

Bo 2 ee. GE Se

i 5 OUT i TT

C0 Ce Se 2 + ees aa —

Se ae ET Ge EE Ce REET EE

ee ees ee Bh a a

Bn ee a =a = ee

GH El 1 Rin 2 ESE Ee =

oo os Ge GGG eS. es ca ’

@ mers SEam a Gl ERS) GEL SSR OF OS) OE

DSi es as = GO GOR GS OSE as oS a=

BY 4 Gl 6 2. GES GG) 2 Se i GS

SS Ei ee) es EE Gs ee 2 GS) Gee oes

‘2 CERES Se GED Gaenseess eS ee ES SS] eee Ee oe

exe DSSSRESs S55 GS eS ES ee ee > 2 mews a

0.7 See ee Ee es ed a ee

SS ee ) Ge) oe Eee a

=. Sees ~~ ES 0S ES OE GE 6) ed SE SE Ee Ge

| an GE GS PEERS 0 eens“) GE Ee ee Ge i es

39 Gn Ge 2am c= = 2 GR Sn. 0 «© Ge ee

Mee MO (TE ST DE

Le ao waa a 1S GSE SS

So SEES Gs GES Es SE SE Ge) S| Sasa

GET Ll a El) ee

FSD ESS

i Ea os

a GEE GE

| pay

OLD NOTATION NEW NOTATION

eee Eee

oi aera

RANGE

Clarinet in Bb* eS

Double Bassoon

P

Valve-horn in F * == ==
ie;
VS :
enor-trombone in Bb re ee ——
ec

B----4

Viola = eS

(Actual sounds, net transposed) Fug. 2.

A SIMPLIFIED MUSICAL NOTATION 279

eye-interval would seem to be a great advantage in sight-read-
ing, both for singers and for players. In particular, the labor
of transposition from one key to another is greatly simplified
in the new plan; for, since the relative position of the notes ig
unchanged, the process of transposition may be regarded as

= tee Ge
(@ () {c)
Fig.4

merely a shifting of the background of lines and spaces, with no
thought of key-signatures, accidentals, etc., that are now so
troublesome. A similar remark applies to the transposed scales
which are often used in writing for special instruments, to
facilitate fingering.

These are all the points that need be mentioned in order to
make the scheme of the new or “normalized” notation clear.
No change is made in the present mode of indicating the dura-

tion of a note (quarters, Nig eighths, Jt etc.) or the time (3/4
time, 4/4 time, etc.) or in the present symbols indicating ex-
pression (f, pp., pedal, etc.). The important change is the
abolition of the “sharps” and “ flats’ which have been the trial
and perplexity of pupils for so many generations. These
sharps and flats, whether occurring as accidentals, or in the
key-signature, may now be recognized as merely the result of
an attempt, historically explicable, but necessarily unsuccessful,
to crowd twelve notes into seven degrees of the staff, instead
of providing each note with its own place.

In order to show the great simplification that the new nota-
tion would bring with it, a few bars from a complicated modern
score” are here given in both the old and the new notations
(Fig. 5). A further illustration is given in Figure 7.

It will be observed that much vertical space required in the
old notation to allow for ledger lines between the bass and
treble staves is saved in the new notation; also, some lateral
space required for accidentals may be saved, without danger of
crowding the notes. Hence, in spite of what one might expect
when eight degrees of staff are expanded into twelve, the total
space required on the page is only slightly increased by the new
plan—certainly not more than twenty per cent. This slight
objection would appear to be much more than offset by the
advantages secured.

Moreover, in the case of band music, where condensation is

2 Maurice Ravel, “Valses nobles et sentimentales,” I, page 3; A.
Durand & Fils, Editeurs, 1911.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Valses nobles & sentimentales. I.

Maurice Ravel.
OLD NOTATION.

A. Durand & Fils, Editeurs, 1911.
(D.& F. 8247) Passage from page 3.

NEW NOTATION.

ki
iN
laa

| hi

by E.V.Huntington,1920.

“Normalized”

especially desirable, the score for each instrument can, by

simple devices, be compressed into a single staff.

What has been said so far has had reference to the reading

of a musical score by the performer.

A SIMPLIFIED MUSICAL NOTATION 281

It remains to point out the effect of the new plan on the
problems of teaching and analysis.

For purposes of elementary teaching there would seem to be
great advantages in the principle of “one sound, one symbol.”
To avoid rhythmic complications in scale singing, however, the
names of the notes should be monosyllabic. It may be desir-
able, therefore, to call the twelve notes of the scale by the last
twelve letters of the alphabet, pronounced as follows:

one es be ree NOW XS UY OU”
Oh Pee Que, Are Ess Tee; You Vee Dub, Ek Eye Zee.

The scale of C major would then be sung as
ao SE —w ve a XK ee ZO

or, if preferred, the “‘do, re, mi” syllables could be used with
fixed pitch, as in the present French schools:

ete = mt ta © so — la — ty do

The details of such matters must of course be left to the
teachers.

For purpose of analysis, the present names, “‘C,” “C #or
D p,” “D,” ete., may of course be retained if preferred.

It is on the side of analysis that the only serious theoretical
objections to the new plan are likely to be raised.

For one thing, the guidance to key-changes which acci-
dentals in the present scores now provide would be lacking in
the new plan; again, the fine distinctions known as enharmonic
changes would cease to have any significance.

In reply to these objections, it may be said that whatever is
actually present in the music as heard by the ear is faithfully
reproduced in the new notation as seen by the eye. Hence it
follows that the new notation omits nothing which is really
essential for the analysis of the music as sound. All that it dis-
courages is an analysis of the symbolism of an obsolete nota-
tion. As Grove’s Dictionary states, all our present rules for
notation are based on the old Mean-tone temperament which
made a real distinction between C# and D>. They do not apply
to the modern equal temperament in which these two symbols
represent exactly the same sound. Now what the new nota-
tion does is to register accurately the sounds which are actually
heard to-day. Any desired analysis of the relations between

3As a matter of fact there are no “rules” for chromatic notation.
Even as early as Beethoven one finds the chromatic scale variously notated

in the same composition. The question of the employment of CZ or Db is
usually a matter left to the whim of the composer.

282 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

those sounds can therefore be carried on entirely adequately in
the new notation.

Moreover, the analysis of the relations between the actual
sounds would be really easier in the new notation than in the
old. For, in the new notation, on account of the direct corre-
spondence between the ear-interval and the eye-interval, the
structure of the chords that are being analyzed may be immedi-
ately recognized by their geometric “‘shape.” In fact, a begin-
ner might have bits of celluloid or tracing paper, marked with
certain standard configurations, to use as a sort of touchstone
to apply to any chord he might wish to examine.

PEGE

Cmaj. Cmin F#maj,. Emin
fiz. ©.

Finally, it should be noted that any composer who desires to
record the key of any composition can do so more readily in the
new notation than in the old. Thus, a “ key-signature,” though
not at all necessary, may be indicated, at any point, by simply
noting the fundamental chord of the key, as in Fig. 6.4

The supposed objections are thus seen to be more apparent
than real. In fact, the new notation might well lead to a new
point of view in analysis, a point of view in which all questions
of mere “spelling” would be relegated to the background, the
entire attention being directed to the study of the actual sounds.

It is not the writer’s purpose to discuss at this time the
practical difficulties in the way of getting the proposed plan
adopted. One need have no illusions as to the seriousness of
these difficulties. The first essential would be, of course, to
secure the publication of a great collection of standard and
school music in the new notation. If this could be done on a
large scale, many teachers and pupils would doubtless be glad
to avail themselves of the “normalized” scores, the use of
which might easily save a large part of the time and expense
now required for an elementary musical training. New edi-
tions of standard works are constantly being published; it is
not impossible that a decisive number of these new issues might

4 By the addition of an occasional single letter (Ellis’s “ duodenal’”’),
the new notation can even be made to indicate the notes required for “ just

intonation ”’ with complete accuracy. A discussion of this phase of the
subject is reserved for another occasion.

Johannes Brahms. Op. 5.

A SIMPLIFIED MUSICAL NOTATION
OLD NOTATION

pening passage)

Verlag von B.Senff Lelpzig,

SONATE (0

; Me Z
=24 sar S
| i
Nai : <7 pata
3 eo)
Ae z
: 2
ry to Wee Hs
=| ull Hh ‘
Vs iS Fi UIA =
: Le wl) il
g : i 3 lialliia
£ ; MN
= HG UH ERY YD tL EYP

1920,

Few steps would

“Normalized” by E.V. Huntington

Fg. 7.

do more, in the long run, to encourage the practise, by the
of the art of musical expression.

be published in the “normalized” notation.

people at large,

bo
wr
ra

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE FOREIGN BORN AND NE-|the enumeration of the fourteenth
GRO POPULATION OF THE "census taken in April last. In view
UNITED STATES of the disturbances due to the war,

THE Bureau of the Census is the detailed study of the composi-
making public the population of the tion and distribution of the popula-

states and of cities according to| tion will be of special interest, and

THE TOTAL POPULATION AND ITS ELEMENTS AT EACH CENSUS: 1850-1910

NATIVE PARENTAGE

1890

FOREIGN
FOREIGN

PARENTAGE

NATIVE PARENTAGE
NATIVE PARENTAGE

1910
1900

FOREIGN FOREIGN

E
PARENTAG PARENTAGE

NATIVE PARENTAGE NATIVE PARENTAGE

Fic. 1.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 285

PER CENT OF FOREIGN-BORN WHITES AND NATIVE WHITES OF FOREIGN OR MIXED PARENTAGE
COMBINED IN THE TOTAL POPULATION, BY STATES: 1910

=

(J Less than 1 per cent.
(=j 1 t6 5 per cen‘.

5 to 10 per cent.

Ey 10 to 15 per cent.
GREY 15 to 25 per cent.

25 to 35 por ent.

35 to 60 per cent.
SEMI 50 per cent and over.

* The heavy lines (a) show geographio divisions.

TG

it is to be hoped that the compila-|and native whites of foreign or
tion and publication of the results| mixed parentage combined in the
will be completed without delay.| total population in 1910. The solid
In the meanwhile it may be worth) black, indicating 50 per cent. or
while to give some figures for the! more, covers 13 states, while the
census of 1910, taken from the) next groups, 35 to 50 per cent., also
Statistical Atlas published by the| covers 13 states, and indicates that
Bureau of the Census in 1914. for 26 states 35 per cent. or more of
In Fig. 1 the population of the| the population is of foreign birth or
United States is represented by) parentage. These 26 states have
circles, proportionate to the number | 53.3 per cent. of the total population
returned at each census, from 1850| of the United States. The state
to 1910, the divisions of the circle! with the lowest percentage is North
indicating the proportion of the} Carolina, which has less than 1 per
population in each of the principal| cent. Ail the states of the South
classes. The great increase in the! Atlantic and East South Central
foreign element, including both! divisions, except Delaware, Mary-
foreign born and the native of land, West Virginia, Florida, and
foreign parentage, is brought out) Kentucky, also the District of Co-
very clearly. The proportion of | lumbia, have less than 5 per cent. of
colored population is practically | the foreign-born element in their
the same at each enumeration, but} population.
the proportion of native white of Fig. 3 presents, by states, the per
native parentage has steadily de-| cent. distribution of the negroes in
creased. 1910, in seven groups, shaded as in-
Fig. 2 indicates, in eight groups,| dicated in the legend. Mississippi
by the character of the shading, the| and South Carolina have the high-
percentage of foreign-born whites! est per cent. of negroes and are the

286 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

PER CENT OF NEGROES IN TOTAL POPULATION, BY STATES: 1910

(7) Less than 1 per cent. ~
Eq 1 to5 percen*.

5 to 12} per cent.

12} to 25 per ecnt.

25 to 37} per cent.
ZZ, 373 to 50 per cent,
(HEY 50 per cent and over.
The heavy Lines (=e) show geographic divisions.

Fie. 3.

only states with more than 50 per
cent. of their population negroes.
South Carolina had a larger propor-
tion of negro population than any
other state at each census from 1790
to 1890, but in 1900 the number of

| negroes in Mississippi had increased

to 58.5 per cent., while in South
Carolina the per cent. had fallen to
58.4. In 1910 Mississippi had the
highest percentage, 56.2, and South
Carolina was second, with 55.2.

PROPORTION OF MALES TO FEMALES IN THE TOTAL POPULATION, BY STATES: 1910

———

[CD FEMALES IX EXCESEN
MALES "IN EXCESS.
Less than 5 per cent,

E23 5 to 10 per cent.

10 to 15 per cent.,

15 to 20 per cent.

20 per cent and over.
The heavy lines (==) show geographic divisions.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

287

HUNDREDS OF THCUGANOS

Fic. 5.

DISTRIBUTION OF THE POPU-
LATION BY SEX AND AGE

Fig. 4 indicates the proportion of
males to females in the total popu-
lation at the thirteenth census, by
states. The females are in excess in
Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Mary-
land, District of Columbia, North
Carolina, and South Carolina. In
1910 the states having the greatest
proportion of males to females were
Nevada, with 179.2, Wyoming with
168.8, and Montana with 152.1 males
to each 100 females. The propor-
tion for the United States is 106
males to each 100 females. The ex-
cess of males is due principally to
the large foreign immigration, in
which the males largely outnumber

the females. The map brings out
the fact that no geographic division
east of the Mississippi River had,
in 1910, more than 106 males to 100
females, the United States average,
but in all of the western divisions
the proportion is much higher, the
Pacifie division reaching a total of
129 males to 100 females. This is
due to the migration of the native
male population from the eastern
states to California, Oregon, and
Washington. The sections which
have been recently settled in that
part of the country give more op-
portunity for the labor of men than
of women.

Distribution by age and sex of the
total population by single years of

NATIVE WHITE OF NATIVE PARENTAGE
4 AGE PERIOO

PER CENT

age, as shown in Fig. 5, presents
very strikingly the irregularity in
the proportion of the ages of the
population as returned in 1910. A
normal diagram should form a pyr-
amid, each bar representing an age
period being smaller than the one
below it. The sexes are nearly
equally divided, but the abnormal
length of the bars, especially for the
periods ending in zero or in 5, stand
out in the diagram. Many more in-
dividuals say they are thirty years
old than twenty-nine or thirty-one.
The fact that fewer children are
reported in the first year of life
than in each of the four subsequent
years indicates the defects or diffi-
culties in the way of taking a
census.

The extent to which the age and
sex distribution of the population is
influenced by immigration is shown
in Figs. 6 and 7. Among those ar-
riving from foreign countries the
men greatly exceed the women and

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FOREIGN-BORN WHITE

PER CENT AGE PERIOD

PER CENT

there are comparatively few chil-
dren. Families are the most desir-
able class of immigrants and the
laws should favor them rather than
discriminate against them as is now
the case.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE regret to record the death of
Sir Norman Lockyer, director of the
London Solar Physics Observatory
and for fifty years editor of Nature.

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY has con-
ferred the degree of doctor of laws
on Dr. John J. Abel, professor of
pharmacology at the Johns Hopkins
Medical School, and on Dr. Harvey
Cushing, professor of surgery in
Harvard University.—Dr. William
W. Keen, professor emeritus of
surgery at the Jefferson Medical
College, president of the Interna-
tional Surgical Society, recently in
conference at Paris, presided at the
opening sessions.

THE SCIENTIFIC.
MONTHLY a

OCTOBER, 1920 4

~~ = Si 4
eG ->S0 1

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE
-ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE’

{(? >

/ OCEANOGRAPHY AND. _ THE SEA-FISHERIES,

By Professor WILLIAM A. HERDMAN
PRESIDENT OF THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE

CEANOGRAPHY has many practical applications, chiefly,
but by no means wholly, on the biological side. ~fhe
great fishing industries of the world deal with living organisms,
of which all the vital activities and the inter-relations with the
environment are matters of scientific investigation. Aquicul-
ture is as susceptible of scientific treatment as agriculture can
be; and the fisherman, who has been in the past too much the
nomad and the hunter—if not, indeed, the devastating raider—
must become in the future the settled farmer of the sea if his
harvest is to be less precarious. Perhaps the nearest approach
to cultivation of a marine product, and of the fisherman reaping
what he has actually sown, is seen in the case of the oyster and
mussel industries on the west coast of France, in Holland,
America, and, to a less extent, on our own coast. Much has been
done by scientific men for these and other similar coastal fisher-
ies Since the days when Prof. Coste in France in 1859 introduced
oysters from the Scottish oyster-beds to start the great industry
at Areachon and elsewhere. Now we buy back the descendants
of our own oysters from the French ostreiculturists to replenish
our depleted beds.

It is no small matter to have introduced a new and impor-
tant food-fish to the markets of the world. The remarkable
deep-water “tile-fish,” new to science and described as Lopho-
latilus chameleonticeps, was discovered in 1879 by one of the
United States fishing schooners to the south of Nantucket, near
the 100-fathom line. Several thousand pounds weight were

“A Extracts from addresses given at the Cardiff Meeting. /
VOL. <1.—19. ;

I \

290 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

caught, and the matter was duly investigated by the United
States Fish Commission. For a couple of years after that the
fish was brought to market in quantity, and then something
unusual happened at the bottom of the sea, and in 1882 millions
of dead tile-fish were found floating on the surface over an
area of thousands of square miles. The schooner Navarino
sailed for two days and a night through at least 150 miles of
sea, thickly covered as far as the eye could reach with dead
fish, estimated at 256,000 to the square mile. The Fish Com-
mission sent a vessel to fish systematically over the grounds
known as the “‘ Gulf Stream slope,” where the tile-fish had been
so abundant during the two previous years, but she did not
catch a single fish, and the associated sub-tropical invertebrate
fauna was also practically obliterated.

This wholesale destruction was attributed by the American
oceanographers to a sudden change in the temperature of the
water at the bottom, due in all probability to a withdrawal
southwards of the warm Gulf Stream water and a flooding of
the area by the cold Labrador current.

I am indebted to Dr. C. H. Townsend, Director of the cele-
brated New York Aquarium, for the latest information in re-
gard to the reappearance in quantity of this valuable fish upon
the old fishing grounds off Nantucket and Long Island, at about
100 miles from the coast to the east and southeast of New York.
It is believed that the tile-fish is now abundant enough to main-
tain an important fishery, which will add an excellent food-fish
to the markets of the United States. It is easily caught with
lines at all seasons of the year, and reaches a length of over
three feet and a weight of 40 to 50 pounds. During July, 1915,
the product of the fishery was about two and a half million
pounds weight, valued at 55,000 dollars, and in the first few
months of 1917 the catch was four and a half million pounds,
for which the fishermen received 247,000 dollars.

We can scarcely hope in European seas to add new food-
fishes to our markets, but much may be done through the
cooperation of scientific investigators of the ocean with the Ad-
ministrative Departments to bring about a more rational con-
servation and exploitation of the national fisheries.

Earlier in this address I referred to the pioneer work of
the distinguished Manx naturalist, Professor Edward Forbes.
There are many of his writings and of his lectures which I have
no space to refer to which have points of oceanographic interest.
Take this, for example, in reference to our national sea fisheries.
We find him in 1847 writing to a friend:

OCEANOGRAPHY AND THE SEA-FISHERIES 291

On Friday night I lectured at the Royal Institution. The subject
was the bearing of submarine researches and distribution matters on the
fishery question. I pitched into government mismanagement pretty
strong, and made a fair case of it. It seems to me that at a time when
half the country is starving we are utterly neglecting or grossly mis-
managing great sources of wealth and food. ... Were I a rich man I
would make the subject a hobby, for the good of the country and for the
better proving that the true interests of government are those linked with
and inseparable from science.

We must, still cordially approve of these last words, while
recognizing that our Government Department of Fisheries is
now being organized on better lines, is itself carrying on scien-
tific work of national importance, and is, I am happy to think,
in complete sympathy with the work of independent scientific
investigators of the sea. and desirous of closer cooperation with
university laboratories and biological stations.

During recent years one of the most important and most
frequently discussed of applications of fisheries investigation
has been the productivity of the trawling grounds, and espe-
cially those of the North Sea. It has been generally agreed
that the enormous increase of fishing power during the last
forty years or so has reduced the number of large plaice, so that
the average size of that fish caught in our home waters has be-
come smaller, although the total number of plaice landed had
continued to increase up to the year of the outbreak of war.
Since then, from 1914 to 1919, there has of necessity been what
may be described as the most gigantic experiment ever seen in
the closing of extensive fishing grounds. It is still too early to
say with any certainty exactly what the results of that experi-
ment have been, although some indications of an increase of the
fish population in certain areas have been recorded. For ex-
ample, the Danes, A. C. Johansen and Kirstine Smith, find that
large plaice landed in Denmark are now more abundant, and
they attribute this to a reversal of the pre-war tendency, due
to less intensive fishing. But Dr. James Johnstone has pointed
out that there is some evidence of a natural periodicity in abun-
dance of such fish and that the results noticed may represent
phases in a cyclic change. If the periodicity noted in Liver-
pool Bay” holds good for other grounds it will be necessary in
any comparison of pre-war and post-war statistics to take this
natural variation in abundance into very careful consideration.

In the application of oceanographic investigations to sea-
fisheries problems, one ultimate aim, whether frankly admitted

2See Johnstone, Report Lancs. Sea-Fish. Lab. for 1917, p. 60; and
Daniel, Report for 1919, p. 51.

292 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

or not, must be to obtain some kind of a rough approximation
to a census or valuation of the sea—of the fishes that form the
food of man, of the lower animals of the sea-bottom on which
many of the fishes feed, and of the planktonic contents of the
upper waters which form the ultimate organized food of the
sea—and many attempts have been made in different ways to
attain the desired end.

Cur knowledge of the number of animals living in different
regions of the sea is for the most part relative only. We know
that one haul of the dredge is larger than another, or that one
locality seems richer than another, but we have very little in-
formation as to the actual numbers of any kind of animal per
square foot or per acre in the sea. Hensen, as we have seen,
attempted to estimate the number of food-fishes in the North
Sea from the number of their eggs caught in a comparatively
small series of hauls of the tow-net, but the data were probably
quite insufficient and the conclusions may be erroneous. It is
an interesting speculation to which we can not attach any eco-
nomic importance. MHeincke says of it:

This method appears theoretically feasible, but presents in practise
so many serious difficulties that no positive results of real value have as
yet been obtained.

All biologists must agree that to determine even approxi-
mately the number of individuals of any particular species living
in a known area is a contribution to knowledge which may be
of great economic value in the case of the edible fishes, but it
may be doubted whether Hensen’s methods, even with greatly
increased data, will ever give us the required information.
Petersen’s method, of setting free marked plaice and then as-
suming that the proportion of these recaught is to the total
number marked as the fishermen’s catch in the same district is
to the total population, will only hold good in circumscribed
areas where there is practically no migration and where the
fish are fairly evenly distributed. This method gives us what
has been called “the fishing coefficient,” and this has been esti-
mated for the North Sea to have a probable value of about
0.33 for those sizes of fish which are caught by the trawl.
Heincke,? from an actual examination of samples of the stock
on the ground obtained by experimental trawling (“‘the catch
coefficient”), supplemented by the market returns of the vari-
ous countries, estimates the adult plaice at about 1,500 millions,

3. Heincke, Cons. Per. Internat. Explor. de la Mer, “ Investigations
on the Plaice,’”’ Copenhagen, 1918.

OCEANOGRAPHY AND THE SEA-FISHERIES 293

of which about 500 millions are caught or destroyed by the
fishermen annually.

It is difficult to imagine any further method which will
enable us to estimate any such case as, say, the number of plaice
in the North Sea where the individuals are so far beyond our
direct observation and are liable to change their positions at
any moment. But a beginning can be made on more accessible
ground with more sedentary animals, and Dr. C. G. Joh. Peter-
sen, of the Danish Biological Station, has for some years been
pursuing the subject in a series of interesting reports on the
“ valuation of the Sea.”* He uses a bottom-sampler, or grab,
which can be lowered down open and then closed on the bottom
so as to bring up a sample square foot or square meter (or in
deep water one tenth of a square meter) of the sand or mud and
its inhabitants. With this apparatus, modified in size and
weight for different depths and bottoms, Peterson and his
fellow-workers have made a very thorough examination of the
Danish waters, and especially of the Kattegat and the Limfjord,
have described a series of “ animal communities ” characteristic
of different zones and regions of shallow water, and have
arrived at certain numerical results as to the quantity of ani-
mals in the Kattegat expressed in tons—such as 5,000 tons of
plaice requiring as food 50,000 tons of “useful animals” (mol-
lusca and polychzt worms), and 25,000 tons of starfish using
up 200,000 tons of useful animals which might otherwise serve
as food for fishes, and the dependence of all these animals
directly or indirectly upon the great Beds of Zostera, which
make up 24,000,000 tons in Kattegat. Such estimates are obvi-
ously of great biological interest, and even if only rough ap-
proximations are a valuable contribution to our understanding
of the metabolism of the sea and of the possibility of increasing
the yield of local fisheries.

But on studying these Danish results in the light of what
we know of our own marine fauna, although none of our seas
has been examined in the same detail by the bottom-sampler
method, it seems probable that the animal communities as de-
fined by Petersen are not exactly applicable on our coasts and
that the estimates of relative and absolute abundance may be
very different in different seas under different conditions. The
work will have to be done in each great area, such as the North
Sea, the English Channel, and the Irish Sea, independently.
This is a necessary investigation, both biological and physical,

See Reports of the Danish Biological Station, and especially the
Report for 1918 “The Sea Bottom and its Production of Fish Food.”

294 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

which lies before the oceanographers of the future, upon the
results of which the future preservation and further cultiva-
tion of our national sea-fisheries may depend.

It has been shown by Johnstone and others that the common
edible animals of the shore may exist in such abundance that
an area of the sea may be more productive of food for man
than a similar area of pasture or crops on land. A Lancashire
mussel bed has been shown to have as many as 16,000 young
mussels per square foot, and it is estimated that in the shallow
waters of Liverpool Bay there are from twenty to 200 animals
of sizes varying from an amphipod to a plaice on each square
meter of the bottom.®

From these and similar data which can be readily obtained,
it is not difficult to calculate totals by estimating the number
of square yards in areas of similar character between tide-
marks or in shallow water. And from weighings of samples
some approximation to the number of tons of available food
may be computed. But one must not go too far. Let all
the figures be based upon actual observation. Imagination is
necessary in science, but in calculating a population of even a
very limited area it is best to believe only what one can see and
measure.

Countings and weighings. however, do not give us all the
information we need. It is something to know even approxi-
mately the number of millions of animals on a mile of shore
and the number of millions of tons of possible food in a sea-
area, but that is not sufficient. All food-fishes are not equally
nourishing to man, and all plankton and bottom invertebrata
are not equally nourishing to a fish. At this point the biologist
requires the assistance of the physiologist and the bio-chemist.
We want to know next the value of our food matters in proteids,
carbohydrates, and fats, and the resulting calories. Dr. John-
stone, of the oceanography department of the University of
Liverpool, has already shown us how markedly a fat summer
herring differs in essential constitution from the ordinary white
fish, such as the cod, which is almost destitute of fat.

Professor Brandt, at Kiel, Professor Benjamin Moore, at
Port Erin, and others have similarly shown that plankton gath-
erings may vary greatly in their nutrient value according as
they are composed mainly of Diatoms, of Dinoflagellates, or of
Copepoda. And, no doubt, the animals of the “benthos,” the
common invertebrates of our shores, will show similar differ-

5“ Conditions of Life in the Sea,” Cambridge Univ. Press, 1908.

OCEANOGRAPHY AND THE SEA-FISHERIES 295

ences in analysis. It is obvious that some contain more solid
flesh, others more water in their tissues, others more calcareous
matter in the exoskeleton, and that therefore weight for weight
we may be sure that some are more nutritious than the others;
and this is probably at least one cause of that preference we see
in some of our bottom-feeding fish for certain kinds of food,
such as polychet worms, in which there is relatively little waste,
and thin-shelled lamellibranch molluscs, such as young mussels,
which have a highly nutrient body in a comparatively thin and
brittle shell.

My object in referring to these still incomplete investiga-
tions is to direct attention to what seems a natural and useful
extension of faunistic work, for the purpose of obtaining some
approximation to a quantitative estimate of the more important
animals of our shores and shallow water and their relative
values as either the immediate or the ultimate food of market-
able fishes.

Each such fish has its ‘‘ food-chain” or series of alternative
chains, leading back from the food of man to the invertebrates
upon which it preys and then to the food of these, and so down
to the smallest and simplest organisms in the sea, and each such
chain must have all its links fully worked out as to seasonal
and quantitative occurrence back to the Diatoms and Flagellates
which depend upon physical conditions and take us beyond the
range of biology—but not beyond that of oceanography. The
Diatoms and the Flagellates are probably more important than
the more obvious sea-weeds not only as food, but also in supply-
ing to the water the oxygen necessary for the respiration of
living protoplasm. Our object must be to estimate the rate of
production and rate of destruction of all organic substances in
the sea.

To attain to an approximate census and valuation of the
sea—remote though it may seem—is a great aim, but it is not
sufficient. We want not only to observe and to count natural
objects, but also to understand them. We require to know not
merely what an organism is—in the fullest detail of structure
and development and affinities—and also where it occurs—again
in full detail—and in what abundance under different circum-
stances, but also how it lives and what all its relations are to

6 Moore and others have made analyses of the protein, fat, etc., in the
soft parts of Sponge, Ascidian, Aplysia, Fusus, Echinus and Cancer at
Port Erin, and find considerable differences—the protein ranging, for ex-
ample, from 8 to 51 per cent., and the fat from 2 to 14 per cent. (see Bio-
Chemical Journ., VI., p. 291).

296 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

both its physical and its biological environment, and that is
where the physiologist, and especially the bio-chemist, can help
us. In the best interests of biological progress the day of the
naturalist who merely collects, the day of the anatomist and
histologist who merely describe, is over, and the future is with
the observer and the experimenter animated by a divine curi-
osity to enter into the life of the organism and understand how
it lives and moves and has its being. ‘‘ Happy indeed is he
who has been able to discover the causes of things.”

Cardiff is a sea-port, and a great sea-port, and the Bristol
Channel is a notable sea-fisheries center of growing importance.
The explorers and merchant venturers of the southwest of Eng-
land are celebrated in history. What are you doing now in
Cardiff to advance our knowledge of the ocean? You have here
an important university center and a great modern national
museum, and either or both of these homes of research might do
well to establish an oceanographical department, which would
be an added glory to your city and of practical utility to the
country. This is the obvious center in Wales for a sea-fisheries
institute for both research and education. Many important
local movements have arisen from British Association meetings,
and if such a notable scientific development were to result from
the Cardiff meeting of 1920, all who value the advance of know!l-
edge and the application of knowledge to industry would ap-
plaud your enlightened action.

But in a wider sense, it is not to the people of Cardiff alone
that I appeal, but to the whole population of these Islands, a
maritime people who owe everything to the sea. I urge them to
become better informed in regard to our national sea-fisheries
and take a more enlightened interest in the basal principles that
underlie a rational regulation and exploitation of these impor-
tant industries. National efficiency depends to a very great
extent upon the degree in which scientific results and methods
are appreciated by the people and scientific investigation is
promoted by the government and other administrative authori-
ties. The principles and discoveries of science apply to aqui-
culture no less than to agriculture. To increase the harvest of
the sea the fisheries must be continuously investigated, and such
cultivation as is possible must be applied, and all this is clearly
a natural application of the biological and hydrographical work
now united under the science of oceanography.

s

THE INTERNAL CONSTITUTION OF THE STARS 297

THE INTERNAL CONSTITUTION OF THE STARS

By Professor A. S. EDDINGTON
PRESIDENT OF THE MATHEMATICAL AND PHYSICAL SCIENCE SECTION

HERE is another line of astronomical evidence which ap-
. pears to show more definitely that the evolution of the
stars proceeds far more slowly than the contraction hypothesis
allows; and perhaps it may ultimately enable us to measure the
true rate of progress. There are certain stars, known as
Cepheid variables, which undergo a regular fluctuation of light
of a characteristic kind, generally with a period of a few days.
This light change is not due to eclipse. Moreover, the color
quality of the light changes between maximum and minimum,
evidently pointing to a periodic change in the physical condi-
tion of the star. Although these objects were formerly thought
to be double stars, it now seems clear that this was a misin-
terpretation of the spectroscopic evidence. There is in fact no
room for the hypothetical companion star; the orbit is so small
that we should have to place it inside the principal star. Every-
thing points to the period of the light pulsation being something
intrinsic in the star; and the hypothesis advocated by Shapley,
that it represents a mechanical pulsation of the star, seems to
be the most plausible. I have already mentioned that the
observed period does in fact agree with the calculated period
of mechanical pulsation, so that the pulsation explanation sur-
vives one fairly stringent test. But whatever the cause of the
variability, whether pulsation or rotation, provided only that it
is intrinsic in the star, and not forced from outside, the density
must be the leading factor in determining the period. If the
star is contracting so that its density changes appreciably,
the period can not remain constant. Now, on the contraction
hypothesis the change of density must amount to at least 1 per
cent. in 40 years. (I give the figures for § Cephei, the best-
known variable of this class.) The corresponding change of
period should be very easily detectable. For 5 Cephei the period
ought to decrease 40 seconds annually.

Now 8 Cephei has been under careful observation since 1785,
and it is known that the change of period, if any, must be very
small. §. Chandler found a decrease of period of 4) second per
annum, and in a recent investigation E. Hertzsprung has found
a decrease of 4%, second per annum. The evidence that there
is any decrease at all rests almost entirely on the earliest obser-

298 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

vations made before 1800, so that it is not very certain; but in
any case the evolution is proceeding at not more than Yoo of
the rate required by the contraction hypothesis. There must
at this stage of the evolution of the star be some other source
of energy which prolongs the life of the star 400-fold. The
time-scale so enlarged would suffice for practically all reason-
able demands.

I hope the dilemma is plain. Either we must admit that
whilst the density changes 1 per cent. a certain period intrinsic
in the star can change no more than Yo, of 1 per cent., or we
must give up the contraction hypothesis.

If the contraction theory were proposed today as a novel
hypothesis I do not think it would stand the smallest chance of
acceptance. From all sides—biology, geology, physics, astron-
omy— it would be objected that the suggested source of energy
was hopelessly inadequate to provide the heat spent during the
necessary time of evolution; and, so far as it is possible to in-
terpret observational evidence confidently, the theory would be
held to be definitely negatived. Only the inertia of tradition
keeps the contraction hypothesis alive—or rather, not alive, but
an unburied corpse. But if we decided to inter the corpse, let
us frankly recognize the position in which we are left. A star
is drawing on some vast reservoir of energy by means unknown
tous. This reservoir can scarcely be other than the sub-atomic
energy which, it is known, exists abundantly in all matter; we
sometimes dream that man will one day learn how to release it
and use it for his service. The store is well-nigh inexhaust-
ible, if only it could be tapped. There is sufficient in the sun
to maintain its output of heat for 15 billion years.

Certain physical investigations in the past year, which I
hope we may hear about at this meeting, make it probable to
my mind that some portion of this sub-atomic energy is actually
being set free in the stars. F. W. Aston’s experiments seem
to leave no room for doubt that all the elements are constituted
out of hydrogen atoms bound together with negative electrons.
The nucleus of the helium atom, for example, consists of 4
hydrogen atoms bound with 2 electrons. But Aston has further
shown conclusively that the mass of the helium atom is less
than the sum of the masses of the 4 hydrogen atoms which enter
into it; and in this at any rate the chemists agree with him.
There is a loss of mass in the synthesis amounting to about 1
part in 120, the atomic weight of hydrogen being 1.008 and
that of helium just 4. I will not dwell on his beautiful proof of
this, as you will no doubt be able to hear it from himself. Now

THE INTERNAL CONSTITUTION OF THE STARS 299

mass can not be annihilated, and the deficit can only represent
the mass of the electrical energy set free in the transmutation.
We can therefore at once calculate the quantity of energy liber-
ated when helium is made out of hydrogen. If 5 per cent.
of a star’s mass consists initially of hydrogen atoms, which are
gradually being combined to form more complex elements, the
total heat liberated will more than suffice for our demands, and
we need look no further for the source of a star’s energy.

But is it possible to admit that such a transmutation is oc-
curring? It is difficult to assert, but perhaps more difficult to
deny, that this is going on. Sir Ernest Rutherford has recently
been breaking down the atoms of oxygen and nitrogen, driving
out an isotope of helium from them; and what is possible in the
Cavendish laboratory may not be too difficult in the sun. I
think that the suspicion has been generally entertained that the
stars are the crucibles in which the lighter atoms which abound
in the nebule are compounded into more complex elements. In
the stars matter has its preliminary brewing to prepare the
greater variety of elements which are needed for a world of,
life. The radio-active elements must have been formed at no
very distant date; and their synthesis, unlike the generation of
helium from hydrogen, is endothermic. If combinations re-
quiring the addition of energy can occur in the stars, combina-
tions _which liberate energy ought not to be impossible.

ant We need not bind ourselves to the formation of helium from
_ hydrogen as the sole reaction which supplies the energy,
although it would seem that the further stages in building up
the elements involve much less liberation, and sometimes even
absorption, of energy. It is a question of accurate measure-
ment of the deviations of atomic weights from integers, and up
to the present hydrogen is the only element for which Mr.
Aston has been able to detect the deviation. No doubt we shall
learn more about the possibilities in due time. The position
may be summarized in these terms: the atoms of all elements
are built of hydrogen atoms bound together, and presumably
have at one time been formed from hydrogen; the interior of
a star seems as likely a place as any for the evolution to have
occurred; whenever it did occur a great amount of energy must
have been set free; in a star a vast quantity of energy is being
set free which is hitherto unaccounted for. You may draw a
conclusion if you like.

If, indeed, the sub-atomic energy in the stars is being freely
used to maintain their great furnaces, it seems to bring a little
nearer to fulfilment our dream of controlling this latent power
for the well-being of the human race—or for its suicide.

300 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

So far as the immediate needs of astronomy are concerned,
it is not of any great consequence whether in this suggestion
we have actually laid a finger on the true source of the heat.
It is sufficient if the discussion opens our eyes to the wider
possibilities. We can get rid of the obsession that there is no
other conceivable supply besides contraction, but we need not
again cramp ourselves by adopting prematurely what is perhaps
a still wilder guess. Rather we should admit that the source
is not certainly known, and seek for any possible astronomical
evidence which may help to define its necessary character. One
piece of evidence of this kind may be worth mentioning. It
seems clear that it must be the high temperature inside the stars
which determines the liberation of energy, as H. N. Russell has
pointed out. If so the supply may come mainly from the hottest
region at the center. I have already stated that the general
uniformity of the opacity of the stars is much more easily in-
telligible if it depends on scattering rather than on true absorp-
tion ; but it did not seem possible to reconcile the deduced stellar
opacity with the theoretical scattering coefficient. Within rea-
sonable limits it makes no great difference in our calculations at
what parts of the star the heat energy is supplied, and it was
assumed that it comes more or less evenly from all parts, as
would be the case on the contraction theory. The possibility
was searcely contemplated that the energy is supplied entirely
in a restricted region round the center. Now, the more con-
centrated the supply, the lower is the opacity requisite to ac-
count for the observed radiation. I have not made any detailed
calculations, but it seems possible that for a sufficiently concen-
trated source the deduced and the theoretical coefficients could
be made to agree, and there does not seem to be any other way
of accomplishing this. Conversely, we might perhaps argue
that the present discrepancy of the coefficients shows that the
energy supply is not spread out in the way required by the
contraction hypothesis, but belongs to some new source only
available at the hottest, central part of the star.

I should not be surprised if it is whispered that this address
has at times verged on being a little bit speculative; perhaps
some outspoken friend may bluntly say that it has been highly
speculative from beginning to end. I wonder what is the touch-
stone by which we may test the legitimate development of scien-
tific theory and reject the idly speculative. We all know of
theories which the scientific mind instinctively rejects as fruit-
less guesses; but it is difficult to specify their exact defect or to
supply a rule which will show us when we ourselves do err.

rs

THE INTERNAL CONSTITUTION OF THE STARS 301

It is often supposed that to speculate and to make hypotheses
are the same thing; but more often they are opposed. It is
when we let our thoughts stray outside venerable, but sometimes
insecure, hypotheses that we are said to speculate. Hypothesis
limits speculation. Moreover, distrust of speculation often
serves as a cover for loose thinking; wild ideas take anchorage
in our minds and influence our outlook; whilst it is considered
too speculative to subject them to the scientific scrutiny which
would exorcise them.

~ Tf we are not content with the dull accumulation of experi-
mental facts, if we make any deductions or generalizations, if
we seek for any theory to guide us, some degree of speculation
can not be avoided. Some will prefer to take the interpreta-
tion which seems to be most immediately indicated and at once
adopt that as a hypothesis; others will rather seek to explore
and classify the widest possibilities which are not definitely in-
consistent with the facts. Either choice has its dangers; the
first may be too narrow a view and lead progress into a cul-de-
sac; the second may be so broad that it is useless as a guide,
and diverges indefinitely from experimental knowledge. When
this last case happens, it must be concluded that the knowledge
is not yet ripe for theoretical treatment and speculation is pre-
mature. The time when speculative theory and observational
research may profitably go hand in hand is when the possibili-
ties, or at any rate the probabilities, can be narrowed down by
experiment, and the theory can indicate the tests by which the
remaining wrong paths may be blocked up one by one.

~The mathematical physicist is in a position of peculiar diffi-

culty. He may work out the behavior of an ideal model of
material with specifically defined properties, obeying mathe-
matically exact laws, and so far his work is unimpeachable. It
is no more speculative than the binomial theorem. But when
he claims a serious interest for his toy, when he suggests that
his mode! is like something going on in Nature, he inevitably
begins to speculate. Is the actual body really like the ideal
model? May not other unknown conditions intervene? He
can not be sure, but he can not suppress the comparison; for it
is by looking continually to Nature that he is guided in his
choice of a subject. A common fault, to which he must often
plead guilty, is to use for the comparison data over which the
more experienced observer shakes his head; they are too in-
secure to build extensively upon. Yet even in this, theory may
help observation by showing the kind of data which it is espe-
cially important to improve.

302 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

I think that the more idle kinds of speculation will be avoided
if the investigation is conducted from the right point of view.
When the properties of an ideal model have been worked out
by rigorous mathematics, all the underlying assumptions being
clearly understood, then it becomes possible to say that such and
such properties and laws lead precisely to such and such effects.
If any other disregarded factors are present, they should now
betray themselves when a comparison is made with Nature.
There is no need for disappointment at the failure of the model
to give perfect agreement with observation; it has served its
purpose, for it has distinguished what are the features of the
actual phenomena which require new conditions for their ex-
planation. A general preliminary agreement with observation
is necessary, otherwise the model is hopeless; not that it is
necessarily wrong so far as it goes, but it has evidently put the
less essential properties foremost. We have been pulling at
the wrong end of the tangle, which has to be unravelled by a
different approach. But after a general agreement with ob-
servation is established, and the tangle begins to loosen, we
should always make ready for the next knot. I suppose that the
applied mathematician whose theory has just passed one still
more stringent test by observation ought not to feel satisfaction,
but rather disappointment—“ Foiled again! This time I had
hoped to find a discordance which would throw light on the
points where my model could be improved.” Perhaps that is a
counsel of perfection; I own that I have never felt very keenly
a disappointment of this kind.

Our model of Nature should not be like a building—a hand-
some structure for the populace to admire, until in the course
of time some one takes away a corner stone and the edifice
comes toppling down. It should be like an engine with movable
parts. We need not fix the position of any one lever; that is
to be adjusted from time to time as the latest observations indi-
cate. The aim of the theorist is to know the train of wheels
which the lever sets in motion—that binding of the parts which
is the soul of the engine.

In ancient days two aviators procured to themselves wings.
Dedalus flew safely through the middle air across the sea, and
was duly honored on his landing. Young Icarus soared up-
wards towards the sun till the wax melted which bound his
wings, and his flight ended in fiasco. In weighing their achieve-
ments perhaps there is something to be said for Icarus. The
classic authorities tell us that he was only “doing a stunt,” but
I prefer to think of him as the man who certainly brought to

THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ALLOYS 303

light a constructional defect in the flying machines of his day.
So too in science. Cautious Dedalus will apply his theories
where he feels most confident they will safely go; but by his
excess of caution their hidden weaknesses can not be brought
to light. Icarus will strain his theories to the breaking-point
till the weak joints gape. For a spectacular stunt? Perhaps
partly; he is often very human. But if he is not yet destined
to reach the sun and solve for all time the riddle of its constitu-
tion, yet he may hope to learn from his journey some hints to
build a better machine.

THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ALLOYS

By C. T. HEYCOCK |
PRESIDENT OF THE CHEMICAL SECTION

N 1897 Neville and I determined the complete freezing-point
I curve of the copper-tin alloys, confirming and extending
the work of Roberts-Austen, Stansfield, and Le Chatelier; but
the real meaning of the curve remained as much of a mystery as
ever. Early in 1900 Sir G. Stokes suggested to us that we
should make a microscopic examination of a few bronzes as an
aid to the interpretation of the singularities of the freezing-
point curve. An account of this work, which occupied us for
more than two years, was published as the Bakerian Lecture
of the Royal Society in February, 1903. Whilst preparing
a number of copper-tin alloys of known composition we were
struck by the fact that the crystalline pattern which developed
on the free surface of the slowly cooled alloys was entirely un-
like the structure developed by polishing and etching sections
cut from the interior; it therefore appeared probable that
changes were going on within the alloys as they cooled. In the
hope that, as Sorby had shown in the case of steel, we could
stereotype or fix the change by sudden cooling, we melted small
ingots of the copper in alloys and slowly cooled them to selected
temperatures and then suddenly chilled them in water. The
results of this treatment were communicated to the Royal So-
siety and published in the Proceedings, February, 1901.

To apply this method to a selected alloy we first determined
its cooling curve by means of an automatic recorder, the curve
usually showing several halts or steps in it. The temperature
of the highest of these steps correponded with a point on the
liquidus, 7. e., when solid first separated out from the molten

304 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mass. To ascertain what occurred at the subsequent halts,
ingots of the melted alloy were slowly cooled to within a few
degrees above and below the halt and then chilled, with the
result just seen on the screen.

The method of chilling also enabled us to fix, with some
degree of accuracy, the position of points on the solidus. If an
alloy, chilled when it is partly solid and partly liquid, is polished
and etched, it will be seen to consist of large primary combs
embedded in a matrix consisting of mother liquor, in which are
disseminated numerous small combs, which we called “chilled
primary.” By repeating the process at successively lower and
lower temperatures we obtained a point at which the chilled
primary no longer formed, 7. e., the upper limit of the solidus.

Although we made but few determinations of the physical
properties of the alloys, it is needless to say how much they
vary with the temperature and with the rapidity with which
they are heated or cooled.

From a consideration of the singularities in the liquidus
curve, coupled with the microscopic examination of slowly cooled
and chilled alloys, we were able to divide the copper-tin alloys
into certain groups having special qualities. It would take far
too long to discuss these divisions. In interpreting our result
we were greatly assisted not only by the application of the phase
rule, but also by the application of Roozeboom’s theory of solid
solution (unfortunately Professor Roozeboom’s letters were de-
stroyed by fire in June, 1910) and by the advice he kindly gave
us. At the time the paper was published we expressly stated
that we did not regard all our results as final, as much more
work was required to clear up points still obscure. Other
workers—Shepherd and Blough, Giolitti and Tavanti—have
somewhat modified the diagram.

Neither Shepherd and Blough nor Hoyt have published the
photomicrographs upon which their results are based, so that it
is impossible to criticize their conclusions. Giolitti and Tavanti
have published some microphotographs, from which it seems
that they had not allowed sufficient time for equilibrium to be
established. In this connection I must call attention to the ex-
cellent work of Haughton on the constitution of the alloys of
copper and tin.: He investigated the alloys rich in tin, and
illustrated his conclusions by singularly beautiful microphoto-
graphs, and has done much to clear up doubtful points in this
region of the diagram. I have dwelt at some length on this
work, for copper-tin is probably the first of the binary alloys on

1 Journ. Institute of Metals, March, 1915.

THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ALLOYS 305

which an attempt had been made to determine the changes
which take place in passing from one pure constituent to the
other. I would again call attention to the fact that without a
working theory of solution the interpretation of the results
would have been impossible.

Since 1900, many complete equilibrium diagrams have been
published ; amqngst them may be mentioned the work of Rosen-
hain and Tucker on the lead-tin alloys,? in which they describe
hitherto unsuspected changes on the lead rich side which go on
when these alloys are at quite low temperatures, also the con-
stitution of the alloys of aluminum and zinc; the work of Rosen-
hain and Archbutt,’? and quite recently the excellent work of
Vivian, on the alloys of tin and phosphorus, which has thrown
an entirely new light on this difficult subject.

So far I have called attention to some of the difficulties en-
countered in the examination of binary alloys. When we come
to ternary alloys the difficulties of carrying out an investigation
are enormously increased, whilst with quaternary alloys they
seem almost insurmountable; in the case of steels containing
always six, and usually more, constituents, we can only hope to
get information by purely empirical methods.

Large numbers of the elements and their compounds which
originally were laboriously prepared and investigated in the
laboratory and remained dormant as chemical curiosities for
many years have, in the fulness of time, taken their places as
important and, indeed, essential articles of commerce. Passing
over the difficulties encountered by Davy in the preparation of
metallic sodium and by Faraday in the production of benzene
(both of which materials are manufactured in enormous quan-
tities at the present time), I may remark that even during my
own lifetime I have seen a vast number of substances trans-
ferred from the category of rare laboratory products to that
which comprises materials of the utmost importance to the
modern metallurgical industries. A few decades ago, alumin-
ium, chromium, cerium, thorium, tungsten, manganese, mag-
nesium, molybdenum, nickel, calcium and calcium carbide, car-
borundum, and acetylene, were unknown outside the chemical
laboratory of the purely scientific investigator; today these
elements, their compounds and alloys, are amongst the most
valuable of our industrial metallic products. They are essen-
tial in the manufacture of high-speed steels, of armor plate,
- of filaments for the electric bulb lamp, of incandescent gas
2Phil. Trans., 1908.
=Phi.. Trans.,° 1911.

VOL. xI.—20.

306 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

mantles, and of countless other products of modern scientific
industry.

All these metallic elements and compounds were discovered,
and their industrial uses foreshadowed, during the course of
the purely academic research work carried out in our universi-
ties and colleges; all have become the materials upon which
great and lucrative industries have been built up. Although
the scientific worker has certainly not exhibited any cupidity
in the past—although he has been content to rejoice in his own
contributions to knowledge, and to see great manufacturing
enterprises founded upon his work—it is clear that the obliga-
tion revolves upon those who have reaped in the world’s markets
the fruit of scientific discovery to provide from their harvest
the financial aid without which scientific research can not be
continued.

The truth of this statement is well understood by those of
our great industrial leaders who are engaged in translating
the results of scientific research into technical practice. As
evidence of this I may quote the magnificent donation of
£210,000 by the British Oil Companies towards the endowment
of the school of chemistry in the University of Cambridge, the
noble bequest of the late Dr. Messel, one of the most enlightened
of our technical chemists, for defraying the cost of scientific
research, the gifts of the late Dr. Ludwig Mond towards the
upkeep and expansion of the Royal Institution, one of the
strongholds of British chemical research, and the financial sup-
port given by the Goldsmiths’ and others of the great City of
London Livery Companies (initiated largely by the late Sir
Frederick Abel, Sir Frederick Bramwell, and Mr. George
Matthey), to the foundation of the Imperial College of Science
and Technology. The men who initiated these gifts have been
themselves intimately associated with developments both in
science and industry; they have understood that the field must
be prepared before the crop can be reaped. Fortunately our
great chemical industries are, for the most part, controlled and
administered by men fully conversant with the mode in which
technical progress and prosperity follow upon scientific achieve-
ment; and it is my pleasant duty to record that within the last
few weeks the directors of one of our greatest chemical-manu-
facturing concerns have, with the consent of their shareholders,
devoted £100,000 to research. Doubtless other chemical indus-
tries will in due course realize what they have to gain by an
adequate appreciation of pure science.

If the effort now being made to establish a comprehensive

THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF ALLOYS 307

scheme for the resuscitation of chemical industry within our
empire is to succeed, financial support on a very liberal scale
must be forthcoming, from the industry itself, for the advance-
ment of purely scientific research. This question has been
treated recently in so able a fashion by Lord Moulton that noth-
ing now remains but to await the results of his appeal for funds
in aid of the advancement of pure science.

In order to prevent disappointment, and a possible reaction
in the future, in those who endow pure research, it is necessary
to give a word of warning. It must be remembered that the
history of science abounds in illustrations of discoveries, re-
garded at the time as trivial, which have in after years become
epoch-making.

In illustration I would cite Faraday’s discovery of electro-
magnetic induction. He found that when a bar magnet was
thrust into the core of a bobbin of insulated copper wire, whose
terminals were connected with a galvanometer, a momentary
current was produced; whilst on withdrawing the magnet a
momentary reverse current occurred; a purely scientific experi-
ment destined in later years to develop into the dynamo and
with it the whole electrical industry. Another illustration may
be given: Guyton de Morxeau, Northmore, Davy, Faraday and
Cagniard Latour between 1800 and 1850 were engaged in lique-
fying many of the gases. Hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, marsh
gas, carbon-monoxide, and nitric oxide, however, resisted all
efforts, until the work of Joule and Andrews gave the clue to the
causes of failure. Some thirty years later by careful applica-
tion of the theoretical considerations all the gases were lique-
fied. The liquefaction of oxygen and nitrogen now forms the
basis of a very large and important industry.

Such cases can be multiplied indefinitely in all branches of
science.

Perhaps the most pressing need of the present day lies in
the cultivation of a better understanding between our great
masters of productive industry, the shareholders to whom they
are in the first degree responsible, and our scientific workers;
if, by reason of any turbidity of vision, our large manufacturing
corporations fail to discern that, in their own interest, the finan-
cial support of purely scientific research should be one of their
first cares, technical advance will slacken and other nations,
adopting a more far-sighted policy, will forge ahead in science
and technology. It should, I venture to think, be the bounden
duty of every one who has at heart the aims and objects of
the British Association to preach the doctrine that in closer

308 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

sympathy between all classes of productive labor, manual and
intellectual, lies our only hope for the future. I can not do
better than conclude by quoting the words of Pope, one of our
most characteristically British poets:

By mutual confidence and mutual aid
Great deeds are done and great discoveries made.

WHERE DOES ZOOLOGY STAND?

By Professor J. STANLEY GARDINER |

PRESIDENT OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SECTION

HE public has the right to consider and pass judgment on

all that affects its civilization and advancement, and both

of these largely depend on the position and advance of science.

I ask its consideration of the science of zoology, whether or not

it justifies its existence as such, and, if it does, what are its

needs. It is at the parting of the ways. It either has to justify

itself as a science or be altogether starved out by the new-found

enthusiasm for chemistry and physics, due to the belief in their
immediate application to industries.

It is a truism to point out that the recent developments in
chemistry and physics depend, in the main, on the researches of
men whose names are scarcely known to the public; this is
equally true for all sciences. A list of past presidents of the
Royal Society conveys nothing to the public compared with a
list of captains of industry who, to do them justice, are the first
to recognize that they owe their position and wealth to these
scientists. These men of science are unknown to the public,
not on account of the smallness of their discoveries, but rather
on account of their magnitude, which makes them meaningless
to the mass.

Great as have been the results in physical sciences applied
to industry, the study of animal life can claim discoveries just
as great. Their greatest value, however, lies not in the produc-
tion of wealth, but rather in their broad applicability to human
life. Man is an animal and he is subject to the same laws as
other animals. He learns by the experience of his forebears,
but he learns, also, by the consideration of other animals in
relationship to their fellows and to the world at large. The
whole idea of evolution, for instance, is of indescribable value;
it permeates all life today; and yet Charles Darwin, whose
researches did more than any others to establish its facts, is

WHERE DOES ZOOLOGY STAND? 309

too often only known to the public as “the man who said ‘we
came from monkeys.”

Whilst first and foremost I would base my claim for the
study of animal life on this consideration, we can not neglect
the help it has given to the physical welfare of man’s body. It
is not out of place to draw attention to the manner in which
pure zoological science has worked hand in hand with the science
of medicine. Harvey’s experimental discovery of the circula-
tion of the blood laid the foundation for that real knowledge of
the working of the human body which is at the basis of medi-
cine; our experience of the history of its development gives us
good grounds to hope that the work that is now being carried
out by numerous researches under the term “experimental”
will ultimately elevate the art of diagnosis into an exact science.
Harvey’s work, too, mostly on developing chicks, was the start-
ing-point for our knowledge of human development and growth.
Instances in medicine could be multiplied wherein clinical treat-
ment has only been rendered possible by laborious research into
the life histories of certain parasites preying often on man and
other animals alternately. In this connection there seems
reason at present for the belief that the great problem of medi-
cal science, cancer, will reach its solution from the zoological
side. A pure zoologist has shown that typical cancer of the
stomach of the rat can be produced by a parasitic threadworm
(allied to that found in pork, Trichina), this having as a carry-
ing host the American cockroach, brought over to the large
warehouse of Copenhagen in sacks of sugar. Our attack on
such parasites is only made effective by what we know of them
in lower forms, which we can deal with at will. Millions of the
best of our race owe their lives to the labors of forgotten men
of science, who laid the foundations of our knowledge of the
generations of insects and flat-worms, the modes of life of lice
and ticks, and the physiology of such lowly creatures as Ameba
and Paramecium; parasitic disease—malaria, Bilhaziasis,
typhus, trench fever and dysentery—was as deadly a foe to us
as was the’ Hun.

Of immense economic importance in the whole domain of
domestic animals and plants was the rediscovery, early in the
present century, of the completely forgotten work of Gregor
Mendel on cross-breeding, made known to the pesent generation
largely by the labors of a former president of this Association,
who, true man of science, claims no credit for himself. We see
results already in the few years that have elapsed in special
breeds of wheat, in which have been combined with exactitude

310 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the qualities man desires. The results are in the making—and
this is true of all things in biology—but can any one doubt that
the breeding of animals is becoming an exact science? We
have got far, perhaps, but we want to get much further in our
understanding of the laws governing human heredity; we have
to establish immunity to disease. Without the purely scientific
study of chromosomes (the bodies which carry the physical and
mental characteristics of parents to children) we could have
got nowhere, and to reach our goal we must know more of the
various forces which in combination make up what we term life.

In agricultural sciences we are confronted with pests in half
a dozen different groups of animals. We have often to discover
which of two or more is the damaging form, and the difficulty
is greater where the damage is due to association between plant
and animal pests. Insects are, perhaps, the worst offenders,
and our basal knowledge of them as living organisms—they can
do no damage when dead, and perhaps pinned in our showcases
—is due to Redi, Schwammerdam, and Réamur in the middle of
the seventeenth century. Our present successful honey produc-
tion is founded on the curiosity of these men in respect to the
origin of life and the generations of insects. The fact that
most of the dominant insects have a worm (caterpillar or
maggot) stage of growth, often of far longer duration than that
of the insects, has made systematic descriptive work on the
relation of worm and insect of peculiar importance. I hesitate,
however, to refer to catalogues in which perhaps a million dif-
ferent forms of adults and young are described. Nowadays
we know, to a large degree, with what pests we deal and we are
seeking remedies. We fumigate and we spray, spending mil-
lions of money, but the next remedy is in the use of free-living
enemies or parasites to prey on the insect pests. The close
correlation of anatomy with function is of use here in that life
histories, whether parasitic, carnivorous, vegetarian, or sapro-
phagous, can be foretold in fly maggots from the structure of
the front part of their gut (pharynx) ; we know whether any
maggot is a pest, is harmless, or is beneficial.

I won’t disappoint those who expect me to refer more deeply
to science in respect to fisheries, but its operations in this field
are less known to the public at large. The opening up of our
northwestern grounds and banks is due to the scientific curiosity
of Wyville Thomson and his confréres as to the existence or
non-existence of animal life in the deep sea. It was sheer
desire for knowledge that attracted a host of inquirers to in-
vestigate the life history of river eels. The wonder of a fish

WHERE DOES ZOOLOGY STAND? dll

living in our shallowest pools and travelling two or three thou-
sand miles to breed, very likely on the bottom in 2,000 fathoms,
and subjected to pressures varying from 14 pounds to 2 tons per
square inch, is peculiarly attractive. It shows its results in
regular eel farming, the catching and transplantation of the
baby eels out of the Severn into suitable waters, which can not,
by the efforts of nature alone, be sure of their regular supply.
Purely scientific observations on the life histories of flat fish—
these were largely stimulated by the scentific curiosity induced
by the views of Lamarck and Darwin as to the causes underly-
ing their anatomical development—and on the feeding value
and nature of Thisted Bredning and the Dogger Bank, led to
the successful experiments on transplantation of young plaice
to these grounds and the phenomenal growth results obtained,
particularly on the latter. Who can doubt that this “movement
of herds ”’ is one of the first results to be applied in the farming
of the North Sea as soon as the conservation of our fish supply
becomes a question of necessity?

The abundance of mackerel is connected with the movements
of Atlantic water into the British Channel and the North Sea,
movements depending on complex astronomical, chemical, and
physical conditions. They are further related to the food of
the mackerel, smaller animal life which dwells only in these
Atlantic waters. These depend, as indeed do all animals, on
that living matter which possesses chlorophyll for its nutrition
and which we call plant. In this case the plants are spores of
algee, diatoms, etc., and their abundance as food again depends
on the amount of the light of the sun—the ultimate source, it
might seem, of all life.

A method of ascertaining the age of fishes was sought purely
to correlate age with growth in comparison with the growth of
air-living vertebrates. This method was found in the rings of
growth in the scales, and now the ascertaining of age-groups in
herring shoals enables the Norwegian fisherman to know with
certainty what possibilities and probabilities are before them in
the forthcoming season. From the work on the blending
together of Atlantic with Baltic and North Sea water off the
Baltic Bight and of the subsequent movements of this Bank
water, as it is termed, into the Swedish fiords can be under-
stood, year by year, the Swedish herring fishery. It is interest-
ing that these fisheries have been further correlated with cycles
of sun spots, and also with longer cycles of lunar changes.

The mass of seemingly unproductive scientific inquiries
undertaken by the United States Bureau of Fisheries, thirty to

312 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

fifty years ago, was the forerunner of their immense fish-hatch-
ing operations, whereby billions of fish eggs are stripped year
by year and the fresh waters of that country made into an im-
portant source for the supply of food. The study of the growth
stages of lobsters and crabs has resulted in sane regulations to
protect the egg-carrying females, and in some keeping up of the
supply in spite of the enormously increased demand. Lastly,
the study of free-swimming larval stages in mollusca, stimu-
lated immensely by their similarity to larval stages in worms
and starfishes, has given rise to the establishment of a suc-
cessful pearl-shell farm at Dongonab, in the Red Sea, and of
numerous fresh-water mussel fisheries in the southern rivers of
the United States, to supply small shirt buttons.

Fishery investigation was not originally directed to a more
ambitious end than giving a reasonable answer to a question of
the wisdom or unwisdom of compulsorily restricting commercial
fishing, but it was soon found that this answer could not be
obtained without the aid of pure zoology. The spread of trawl-
ing—and particularly the introduction of steam trawling during
the last century—gave rise to grave fears that the stock of fish
in home waters might be very seriously depleted by the use
of new methods. We first required to know the life histories of
the various trawled fish, and Sars and others told us that the
eggs of the vast majority of the European marine food species
were pelagic; in other words, that they floated, and thus could
not be destroyed, as had been alleged. Trawl fishing might
have to be regulated all the same, for there might be an insuffi-
cient number of parents to keep up the stock. It was clearly
necessary to know the habits, movements, and distribution of
the fishes, for all were not, throughout their life, or at all
seasons, found on the grounds it was practicable to fish. A
North Sea plaice of 12 in. in length, a quite moderate size, is
usually five years old. The fact that of the female plaice cap-
tured in the White Sea, a virgin ground, the vast majority are
mature, while less than half the plaice put upon our markets
from certain parts of the southern North Sea in the years
immediately before the war had ever spawned, is not only of
great interest, but gives rise to grave fears as to the possibility
of unrestricted fishing dangerously depleting the stock itself.
There is, however, another group of ideas surrounding the ques-
tion of getting the maximum amount of plaice-meat from the
sea; it may be that the best size for catching is in reality below
the smallest spawning size. I here merely emphasize that in
the plaice we have an instance of an important food fish, whose

WHERE DOES ZOOLOGY STAND? 313

capture it will probably be necessary to regulate, and that in
determining how best the stock may be conserved, what sizes
should receive partial protection, on what grounds fish congre-
gate and why, and in all the many cognate questions which
arise, answers to either can only be given by the aid of zoolog-
ical science.

But why multiply instances of the applications of zoology as
a pure science to human affairs? Great results are asked for
on every side of human activities. The zoologist, if he be given
a chance to live and to hand on his knowledge and experience
to a generation of pupils, can answer many of them. He is in-
creasingly getting done with the collection of anatomical facts,
and he is turning more and more to the why and how animals
live. We may not know in our generation nor in many gen-
erations what life is, but we can know enough to control that
life. The consideration of the fact that living matter and water
are universally associated opens up high possibilities. The ex-
perimental reproduction of animals, without the interposition
of the male, is immensely interesting; where it will lead no one
can foretell. The association of growth with the acidity and
alkalinity of the water is a matter of immediate practical im-
portance, especially to fisheries. The probability of dissolved
food material in sea and river water, independent of organized
organic life and absorbable over the whole surfaces of animals,
is clearly before us. It is possible that that dissolved material
may be even now being created in nature without the assistance
of organic life? The knowledge of the existence in food of
vitamines, making digestible and usable what in food would
otherwise be wasted, may well result in economics of food that
will for generations prevent the necessity for the artificial re-
striction of populations. The parallel between these vitamines
and something in sea-water may quite soon apply practically to
the consideration of all life in the sea. Finally, what we know
of the living matter of germ cells puts before us the not im-
possible hope that we may influence for the better the genera-
tions yet to come.

If it is the possibility in the unknown that makes a science,
are there not enough possibilities here? Does zoology, with
these problems before it, look like a decayed and worked-out
science? Is it not worthy to be ranked with any other science,
and is it not worthy of the highest support? Is it likely to show
good value for the money spent upon it? Should we not demand
for it a professorial chair in every university that wishes to be
regarded as an educational institution? And has not the occu-

314 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

pant of such a chair a task at least equal in difficulty to that
of the occupant of any other chair? Surely the zoologist may
reasonably claim an equal position and pay to that of the devotee
of any other science? The researcher is not a huckster and
will not make this claim on his own behalf, but the occupant of
this chair may be allowed to do so for him.

|
THE MAP OF EUROPE; AFTER THE WAR

By JOHN McFARLANE, M.A.

PRESIDENT OF THE GEOGRAPHICAL SECTION

HEN we turn to Austria we are confronted with the

\\ great tragedy in the reconstruction of Europe. Of
that country it could once be said ‘‘ Bella gerant alii, tu felix
Austria nube,” but today, when dynastic bonds have been
loosened, the constituent parts of the great but heterogeneous
empire which she thus built up have each gone its own way.
And for that result Austria herself is to blame. She failed to
realize that an empire such as hers could only be permanently
retained on a basis of common political and economic interest.
Instead of adopting such a policy, however, she exploited rather
than developed the subject nationalities, and today their eco-
nomic, no less than their political independence of her is vital
to their existence. Thus it is that the Austrian capital, which
occupies 2 situation unrivalled in Europe, and which before the
war numbered over 2,000,000 souls, finds herself with her oc-
cupation gone. For the moment Vienna is not necessary either
to Austria or to the so-called Succession States, and she will not
be necessary to them until she again has definite functions to
perform. I do not overlook the fact that Vienna is also an
industrial city, and that it, as well as various other towns in
Lower Austria, are at present unable to obtain either raw ma-
terials for their industries or foodstuffs for their inhabitants.
But there are already indications that this state of affairs will
shortly be ameliorated by economic treaties with the neighbor-
ing States. And what I am particularly concerned with is not
the temporary but the permanent effects of the change which
has taken place. The entire political re-orientation of Austria
is necessary if she is to emerge successfully from her present
trials, and such a re-orientation must be brought about with due
regard to geographical and ethnical conditions. The two
courses which are open to her lead in opposite directions. On

THE MAP OF EUROPE AFTER THE WAR 315

the one hand she may become a member of a Danubian con-
federation, on the other she may throw in her lot with the
German people. The first would really imply an attempt to
restore the economic position which she held before the war, but
it is questionable whether it is either possible or expedient for
her to make such an attempt. A Danubian confederation wil!
inevitably be of slow growth, as it is only under the pressure of
economic necessity that it will be joined by the various national-
ities of southeastern Europe. The suggestions made by Mr.
Asquith, Mr. Keynes, and others, for a compulsory free-trade
union would, if carried into effect, be provocative of the most
intense resentment among most, if not all, of the states con-
cerned. But even if a Danubian confederation were established
it does not follow that Austria would be able to play a part in
it similar to that which she played in the Dual Monarchy. With
the construction of new railways and the growth of new com-
mercial centers it is probable that much of the trade with the
southeast of Europe which formerly passed through Vienna will
in future go to the east of that city. Even now Pressburg, or
Bratislava, to give it the name by which it will hence be known,
is rapidly developing at the expense alike of Vienna and Buda-
pest. Finally, Austria has in the past shown little capacity to
understand the Slav peoples, and in any case her position in
what would primarily be a Slav confederation would be an
invidious one. For these reasons we turn to the suggestion that
Austria should enter the German Empire, which, both on geo-
graphical and on ethnical grounds, would appear to be her
proper place. Geographically she is German, because the bulk
of the territory left to her belongs either to the Alpine range
or to the Alpine foreland. It is only when we reach the basin
of Vienna that we leave the mid-world mountain system and
look towards the southeast of Europe across the great Hun-
garian plain. Ethnically, of course, she is essentially German.
Now although my argument hitherto has rather endeavored to
show that the transfer of territory from one state to another
on purely economic grounds is seldom to be justified, it is equally
indefensible to argue that two states which are geographically
and ethnically related are not to be allowed to unite their
fortunes because it would be to their interest to do so. And
that it would be to their interest there seems little doubt.
Austria would still be able to derive some of her raw materials
and foodstuffs from the Succession States, and she would have,
in addition, a great German area in which she would find scope
for her commercial and financial activities. Even if Naumann

316 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

were but playing the part of the Tempter, who said “ All these
things will I give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me,”
he undoubtedly told the truth when he said:

The whole of Germany is now more open to the Viennese crafts than
ever before. The Viennese might make an artistic conquest extending to
Hamburg and Danzig.

But not only would Austria find a market for her industrial
products in Germany, she would become the great trading
center between Germany and southeast Europe, and in that way
would once more be, but in a newer and better sense than
before, the Ostmark of the German people.

The absorption of Austria in Germany is opposed by France,
mainly because she can not conceive that her great secular
struggle with the people on the other side of the Rhine will ever
come to an end, and she fears the addition of 6,500,000 to the
population of her ancient enemy. But quite apart from the fact
that Germany and Austria can not permanently be prevented
from following a common destiny if they so desire, and apart
from the fact that politically it is desirable they should do so
with at least the tacit assent of the Allied Powers rather than
in face of their avowed hostility, there are reasons for thinking
that any danger to which France might be exposed by the addi-
tional man-power given to Germany would be more than com-
pensated for by the altered political condition in Germany her-
self. Vienna would form an effective counterpoise to Berlin,
and all the more so because she is a great geographical center,
while Berlin is more or less a political creation. The South
German people have never loved the latter city, and today they
love her less than ever. In Vienna they would find not only a
kindred civilization with which they would be in sympathy, but
a political leadership to which they would readily give heed. In
such a Germany, divided in its allegiance between Berlin and
Vienna, Prussian animosity to France would be more or less
neutralized. Nor would Germany suffer disproportionately to
her gain, since in the intermingling of Northern efficiency with
Southen culture she would find a remedy for much of the pres-
ent discontents. When the time comes, and Austria seeks to
ally herself with her kin, we hope that no impassable obstacle
will be placed in her way.

The long and as yet unsettled controversy on the limits of the
Italian Kingdom illustrates very well the difficulties which may
arise when geographical and ethnical conditions are subordi-
nated to considerations of military strategy, history, and senti-

THE MAP OF EUROPE AFTER THE WAR 317

ment in the determination of national boundaries. The annexa-
tion of the Alto Adige has been generally accepted as inevitable.
It is true that the population is German, but here, as in Bo-
hemia, geographical conditions appear to speak the final word.
Strategically also the frontier is good, and will do much to allay
Italian anxiety with regard to the future. Hence, although
ethnical conditions are to some extent ignored, the settlement
which has been made will probably be a lasting one.

On the east the natural frontier of Italy obviously runs
across the uplands from some point near the eastern extremity
of the Carnic Alps to the Adriatic. The pre-war frontier was
unsatisfactory for one reason because it assigned to Austria the
essentially Italian region of the lower Isonzo. But once the
lowlands are left on the west the uplands which border them
on the east, whether Alpine or Karst, mark the natural limits
of the Italian Kingdom, and beyond a position on them for
strategic reasons the Italians have no claims in this direction
except what they can establish on ethnical grounds. To these,
therefore, we turn. In Carniola the Slovenes are in a large
majority, and in Gorizia they also form the bulk of the popula-
tion. On the other hand, in the town and district of Trieste
the Italians predominate, and they also form a solid block on
the west coast of Istria, though the rest of that country is
peopled mainly by Slovenes. It seems to follow, therefore, that
the plains of the Isonzo, the district of Trieste, and the west
coast of Istria, with as much of the neighboring upland as is
necessary to secure their safety and communications, should
be Italian and that the remainder should pass to the Jugo-Slavs.
The so-called Wilson line, which runs from the neighborhood
of Tarvis to the mouth of the Arsa, met these requirements
fairly well, though it placed from 300,000 to 400,000 Jugo-Slavs
under Italian rule, to less than 50,000 Italians, half of whom
are in Fiume itself transferred to the Jugo-Slavs. Any addi-
tional territory must, by incorporating a larger alien element,
be a source of weakness and not of strength to Italy. To Fiume
the Italians have no claim beyond the fact that in the town
itself they slightly outnumber the Croats, though in the double
town of Fiume-Sushak there is a large Slav majority. Beyond
the sentimental reasons which they urge in public, however,
there is the economic argument, which, perhaps wisely, they
keep in the background. So long as Trieste and Fiume be-
longed to the same empire the limits within which each operated
were fairly well defined, but if Fiume become Jugo-Slav it will
not only prove a serious rival to Trieste, but will prevent Italy

318 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

from exercising absolute control over much of the trade of Cen-
tral Europe. For Trieste itself Italy has in truth little need,
and the present condition of that city is eloquent testimony of
the extent to which it depended for its prosperity upon the
Austrian and German Empires. In the interests, then, not only
of Jugo-Slavia but of Europe generally, Fiume must not become
Italian, and the idea of constituting it a Free State might well
be abandoned. Its development is more fully assured as the
one great port of Jugo-Slavia than under any other form of
government.

With regard to Italian claims in the Adriatic, little need be
said. To the Dalmatian coast Italy has no right either on geo-
graphical or on ethnical grounds, and the possession of Pola,
Valona, and some of the islands gives her all the strategic ad-
vantages which she has reason to demand. But, after all, the
only danger which could threaten her in the Adiratic would
come from Jugo-Slavia, and her best insurance against that
danger would be an agreement by which the Adriatic should be
neutralized. The destruction of the Austro-Hungarian fleet
offers Italy a great opportunity of which she would do well to
take advantage.

Of the prospects of Jugo-Slavia it is hard to speak with any
feeling of certainty. With the exception of parts of Croatia-
Slavonia and of Southern Hungary, the country is from the
physical point of view essentially Balkan, and diversity rather
than unity is its most pronounced characteristic. From this
physical diversity there naturally results a diversity in outlook
which might indeed be all to the good if the different parts of
the country were linked together by a well-developed system of
communication. Owing to the structure of the land, however,
such a system will take long to complete.

Ethnic affinity forms the real basis of union, but whether
that union implies unity is another matter. It is arguable that
repulsion from the various peoples—Magyars, Turks, and Aus-
trians—by whom they have been oppressed, rather than the
attraction of kinship, is the force which has brought the Jugo-
Slavs together. In any case the obstacles in the way of the
growth of a strong national feeling are many. Serb, Croat,
and Slovene, though they are all members of the Slav family,
have each their distinctions and characteristics which political
differences may tend to exaggerate rather than obliterate. In
Serbian Macedonia, again, out of a total population of 1,100,000,
there are 400,000 to 500,000 people who, though Slavs, are
Bulgarian in their sympathies, and between Serb and Bulgarian

THE MAP OF EUROPE AFTER THE WAR 319

there will long be bitter enmity. Religious differences are not
wanting. The Serbs belong to the Orthodox Church, but the
Croats are Catholics, and in Bosnia there is a strong Moham-
medan element. Cultural conditions show a wide range. The
Macedonian Serb, who has but lately escaped from Turkish mis-
rule, the untutored but independent Montenegrin, the Dalma-
tian, with his long traditions of Italian civilization, the Serb of
the kingdom, a sturdy fighter but without great political insight,
and the Croat and Slovene, whose intellectual superiority is
generally admitted, all stand on different levels in the scale
of civilization. To build up out of elements in many respects
so diverse a common nationality without destroying what is
best in each will be a long and laborious task. Economic con-
ditions are not likely to be of much assistance. It is true that
they are fairly uniform throughout Jugo-Slavia, and it is im-
probable that the economic interests of different regions will
conflict to any great extent. On the other hand, since each
region is more or less self-supporting, they will naturally unite
into an economic whole less easily than if there had been greater
diversity. What the future holds for Jugo-Slavia it is as yet
impossible to say; but the country is one of great potentialities,
and a long period of political rest might render possible the
development of an important State.

This brings me to my conclusion. I have endeavored to
consider the great changes which have been made in Europe
not in regard to the extent to which they do or do not comply
with the canons of boundary-making, for after all there are no
frontiers in Europe which can in these days of modern warfare
be considered as providing a sure defence, but in regard rather
to the stability of the states concerned. A great experiment
has been made in the new settlement of Europe, and an experi-
ment which contains at least the germs of success. But in
many ways it falls far short of perfection, and even if it were
perfect it could not be permanent. The methods which ought
to be adopted to render it more equable and to adapt it to chang-
ing needs it is not for us to discuss here. But as geographers
engaged in the study of the ever-changing relations of man to
his environment we can play an important part in the forma-
tion of that enlightened public opinion upon which alone a so-
ciety of nations can be established.

320 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE ECONOMIC CONDITION OF EUROPE AFTER THE
NAPOLEONIC WAR

By Dr. J. H. CLAPHAM, C.B.E., Litt.D.
PRESIDENT OF THE ECONOMIC SCIENCE AND STATISTICS SECTION

N 1815 France had been engaged in almost continuous wars
for twenty-three, England for twenty-two years. The
German States had been at war less continuously; but they had
been fought over, conquered, and occupied by the French.
Prussia, for instance, was overthrown in 1806. When the final
struggle against Napoleon began, in 1812, there was a French
army of occupation of nearly 150,000 men in Prussia alone.
From 1806 to 1814 Napoleon’s attempt to exclude English trade
from the Continent had led to the English blockade—with its
striking resemblances to, and its striking differences from, the
blockade of 1914-19. Warfare was less horribly intense, and
so less economically destructive, than it has become in our day;
but what it lacked in intensity it made up in duration.

Take, for instance, the loss of life. For England it was
relatively small—because for us the wars were never people’s
wars. In France also it was relatively small in the earlier
years, when armies of the old size were mainly employed. But
under Napoleon it became enormous. Exact figures do not
exist, but French statisticians are disposed to place the losses
in the ten years that ended with Waterloo at fully 1,500,000.
Some place them higher. As the population of France grew
about 40 per cent. between 1805-15 and 1904-14, this would
correspond to a loss of, say 2,100,000 on the population of 1914.
The actual losses in 1914-18 are put at 1,370,000 killed and
missing; and I believe these figures contain some colonial
troops.

Or take the debts accumulated by victors and the requisitions
or indemnities extorted from the vanquished. The wars of a
century ago left the British debt at £848,000,000. According
to our success or failure in securing repayment of loans made
to Dominions and Allies, the Great War will have left us with
a liability of from eight to nine times that amount. Whether
our debt-carrying capacity is eight or nine times what it was
a century ago may be doubted, and can not be accurately de-
termined. But it is not, I would venture to say, less than six
or seven time what it was, and it might well be more. A good
deal depends on future price levels. At least the burdens are

EUROPE AFTER THE NAPOLEONIC WAR 321

comparable; and we understand better now where to look for
broad shoulders to bear them.

After Waterloo France was called upon to pay a war in-
demnity of only £28,000,000, to be divided among all the victors.
With this figure Prussia was thoroughly dissatisfied. Not, I
think, without some reason. She reckoned that Napoleon had
squeezed out of her alone, between 1806 and 1812, more than
twice as much—a tremendous exaction, for she was in those
days a very poor land of squires and peasants, whose treasury
only received a few millions a year. England, who was mainly
responsible—and that for sound political reasons—for the low
figure demanded of France, found herself, the victor, in the
curious position of being far more heavily burdened with debt
than France, who had lost. England, of course, had acquired
much colonial territory; but on the purely financial side the
comparison between her and France was most unequal. Eng-
land’s total national debt in 1817 was £848,000,000. France’s
debt did not reach £200,000,000 until 1830.

The reasons why France came out of the wars so well finan-
cially were four. First, she had gone bankrupt during the
Revolution, and had wiped out most of her old debt. Second,
under Napoleon she had made war pay for itself, as the case
of Prussia shows. Third, there was no financial operation
known to the world in 1815 by which England’s war debt, or
even half of it, could have been transferred to France. Fourth,
England never suggested any such transference, or, so far as
I know, ever even discussed it.

France’s financial comfort, immediately after her defeat, ex-
tended to her currency. During the Revolution she had made a
classical experiment in the mismanagement of credit docu-
ments, with the assignats issued on the security of confiscated
Church property; but after that she had put her currency in
good order. Her final defeat in 1812-14, and again in 1815, did
not seriously derange it. Indeed, the English currency was in
worse order than the French, owing to the suspension of cash
payments by the Bank of England; and so rapidly did France’s
credit recover after 1815 that in 1818 French 5 per cents. stood
at almost exactly the present-day price of British 5 per cent.
War Loan. That year she finished the payment of her war in-
demnity, and the last armies of occupation withdrew.

She had no doubt gained by waging war, and eventually suf-
fering defeat, on foreign soil. No French city had been burnt
like Moscow, stormed like Badajoz, or made the heart of a
gigantic battle like Leipzig. Napoleon fought one brilliant

VoL xI.—2l.

322 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

defensive campaign on French soil, in the valleys of the Marne
and the Seine, in 1814. In 1815 his fate was decided in
Belgium. Hardly a shot was fired in France; hardly a French
cornfield was trampled down. But France, as in 1918, was
terribly short of men, and, again, as in 1918, her means of
communication had suffered. Napoleon’s magnificent roads—
he was among the greatest of road engineers—had gone out of
repair; his great canal works had been suspended. These
things, however, were soon set right by the government which
followed him.

France’s rapid recovery brings us to one of the essential
differences between Western Europe a century ago and Western
Europe to-day. In spite of Paris and her other great towns, the
France of 1915 was a rural country, a land of peasants and
small farmers. Only about 10 per cent. of her population lived
in towns of 10,000 inhabitants or more. The town below
10,000, in all countries, is more often a rural market town, ulti-
mately dependent on the prosperity of agriculture, than an
industrial center. Parallels for France’s condition must be
sought to-day in Eastern Europe—in Serbia or Russia. Itis a
condition which makes the economics of demobilization easy.
The young peasant goes back from the armies to relieve his
father, his mother, and his sisters, who have kept the farm
going. Moreover, France maintained a standing army of
240,000 men after 1815; and her losses in the Waterloo cam-
paign had been so heavy that the actual numbers demobilized
were relatively small. Demobilization left hardly a ripple of
the surface of her economic life.

The German states were far more rural in character even
than France. There were a few industrial districts, of a sort,
in the West and in Saxony; a few trading towns of some size,
like Hamburg and Frankfurt; but there was nowhere a city
comparable to Paris. In 1819 the twenty-five cities which were
to become in our day the greatest of the modern German Em-
pire had not 1,250,000 inhabitants between them. Paris alone
at that time had about 700,000. German statesmen, when peace
came, were occupied not with problems arising from the situa-
tion of the urban wage-earner, though such problems existed,
but with how to emancipate the peasants from the condition of
semi-servility in which they had lived during the previous cen-
tury. Here, too, demobilization presented few of the problems
familiar to us. Probably not one man in ten demobilized was a
pure wage-earner. The rest had links with the soil. The land,
neglected during the war, was crying out for labor, and every

EUROPE AFTER THE NAPOLEONIC WAR 323

man had his place, even if it was a servile place, in rural society.
Things were different in England; but our demobilization
problem was smaller than that of our Continental allies or
enemies, who had mobilized national armies, though not of the
modern size. On the other hand, we had kept an immense fleet
in commission, the crews of which were rapidly discharged.
Early in 1817 Lord Castlereagh stated in Parliament that
300,000 soldiers and sailors had been discharged since the peace.
In proportion to population, that would be equivalent, for the
whole United Kingdom, to nearly 750,000 to-day. For these
men no provision whatever was made. They were simply
thrown on the labor market; and the vast majority of them
were ex-wage-earners or potential wage-earners, industrial,
mercantile, or agricultural. The United Kingdom was not
urbanized as it is to-day; but the census of 1821 showed that 21
per cent. of the population lived in cities of 20,000 inhabitants
and upwards, and probably about 27 per cent. (as compared
with France’s 10 per cent.) lived in places of 10,000 and up-
wards. As industry in various forms, especially coal-mining,
spinning, and weaving, was extensively carried on in rural or
semi-rural districts, it is certain that at least one demobilized
man of working age in every three was a potential wage-earner
of industry or commerce. And as Great Britain had lost most
of her peasant-holders, whether owners or small working
farmers, the remainder of the demobilized rank and file were
nearly all of the agricultural laborer class. They had to find
employment; there was not a place in rural society waiting for
them, as there was for the average French or German peasant
soldier. It is not surprising that the years from 1815 to 1820
were, both economically and politically, probably the most
wretched, difficult, and dangerous in modern English history.
Things were at their worst in 1816-17, both for England
and for her continental neighbors. Western Europe was very
near starvation. Had the harvest of 1815 not been excellent,
so providing a carry-over of corn, or had the harvest of 1817
been much below the average, there must have been widespread
disaster ; so thorough and universal was the harvest failure of
1816. In the latter part of 1815 (December) wheat fell in
England to 55s. 7d., although no grain imports were allowed,
except of oats. Early in 1816 the United Kingdom was actually
exporting a little wheat. Then came a terrible spring—a long
frost, snow lying about Edinburgh in May; all the rivers of
Western Europe in flood. An equally disastrous summer fol-
lowed. There was dearth, in places amounting to real famine,

324 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

everywhere—worst of all in Germany. Unlike France, the
German states of a century ago were extraordinarily, ill-pro-
vided with roads. What roads there were had gone to pieces
in the wars. In winter even the mails could hardly get through
with sixteen and twenty horses. Food supplies could not be
moved over long distances by land; and the slightly more
favored regions could not help the most unfortunate. There
was a far wider gap between prices in Eastern and Western
Germany in 1816 than there had been in the last bad famine
year (1772). Each German state, in its anxiety, began to for-
bid export early in 1816, thus making things worse. At Frank-
furt, the representatives of the German States, gathered for the
Diet, could hardly feed their horses. Prices rose amazingly and
quite irregularly, with the varying food conditions of the vari-
ous provinces. In the spring of 1817 pallid half-starved people
were wandering the fields, hunting for and grubbing up over-
looked and rotten potatoes of the last year’s crop.

In England the harvest failure of 1816 drove wheat up to
103s. 7d. a quarter for December of that year, and to 112s. 8d.
for June of 1817. In Paris the June price in 1817 was equiva-
lent to 122s. 5d. At Stuttgart the May price was equivalent to
138s. 7d. These are only samples. Think what these figures
mean at a time when an English agricultural laborer’s wage was
about 9s. 6d., and a French or German unskilled wage far less.
It must be recalled that there were no special currency causes of
high prices either in France or Germany. These were real
dearth prices. In the spring of 717 the French government was
buying corn wherever it could find it—in England, North
Africa, America—as another bad harvest was feared. Happily,
the 1817 harvest was abundant, here and on the Continent. By
September the Mark Lane price of wheat was 77s. 7d., and the
Paris price 71s. 9d.

I have gone into price details for the purpose of drawing a
contrast between a century ago and to-day. Except for the
damage done to the German roads, the wars had very little to
do with these food troubles of 1816-17. High and fluctuating
food prices were the natural consequence of the general eco-
nomic position of Western Europe a century ago. It was only
in the most comfortable age in all history—the late nineteenth
and early twentieth centuries—that low and stable food prices
came to be regarded as normal. In the eighteenth century,
when England fed herself and often had an exportable surplus,
fluctuations were incessant. Take the ten years 1750-1760.
The mean price of wheat at Eton in ’52 was 45 per cent. above

STRENGTH OF MATERIALS 325

the mean price in 50. The mean price in ’57 was nearly 100
per cent. above the mean price of 750. On Lady Day ’57 the
price was 60s. 544d. On Lady Day ’59 it was 37s. 4d. On
Lady Day ’61 it was 26s. 8d. The ’61 mean price was exactly
half the 57 mean price.

Eighteenth-century England was too well organized eco-
nomically to be in much risk of actual famine, but for Ireland
and large parts of the Continent famine was a normal risk.
War and its effects had only accentuated, not created, that risk.
Imports might reduce it, but could not avert it, because Western
Europe tends to have approximately the same harvest condi-
tions throughout, and it was impossible to draw really large
supplementary supplies from anywhere else. So unimportant
were overseas supplies that the Continent suffered very much
more from the harvest failure of 716, in time of peace, than
from the eight years’ English blockade in time of war. If
overseas supplies could be got they were hard to distribute,
owing to defective transport facilities. ‘Thanks to the work of
the nineteenth century, the most terrific of all wars was required
to bring Western Europe face to face with what had been both
a war-time and a peace-time risk a century earlier.

THE STRENGTH OF MATERIALS IN AEROPLANE
aan ENGINEERING

By Professor C. F. JENKIN, C.B.E., M.A.
PRESIDENT OF THE ENGINEERING SECTION

HE importance of research in all branches of industry is
T now becoming fully recognized. It is hardly necessary
to point out the great possibilities of the Board of Scientific and
Industrial Research, formed just before the war, or to lay stress
on the attention which has been called to the need for research
by events during the war. Probably in no branch of the Serv-
ices was more research work done than in the Air Service, and
the advances made in all directions in connection with flying
were astonishing. My own work was confined to problems con-
nected with materials of construction, and as a result of that
work I have come to the conclusion that the time has come when
the fundamental data on which the engineering theories of the
strength and suitability of materials are based require thorough
overhauling and revision. I believe that the present is a favor-
able time for this work, but I think that attention needs to be

326 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

drawn to it, lest research work is all diverted to the problems
which attract more attention, owing to their being in the fore-
front of the advancing engineering knowledge, and lest the
necessary drudgery is shirked in favor of the more exciting new
discoveries.

It has been'very remarkable how again and again in aero-
plane engineering the problems to be solved have raised funda-
mental questions in the strength and properties of materials
which had never been adequately solved. Some of these ques-
tions related to what may be termed theory, and some related
to the physical properties of materials. I propose to-day to
describe some of these problems, and to suggest the direction in
which revision and extension of our fundamental theories and
data are required and the lines on which research should be
undertaken. Let us consider first one of the oldest materials
of construction—timber. Timber was of prime importance in
aircraft construction. The first peculiarity of this material
which strikes us is that it is anisotropic. Its grain may be
used to locate three principal axes—along the grain, radially
across the grain, and tangentially across the grain. It is
curious that there do not appear to be generally recognized
terms for these three fundamental directions. A very few tests
are sufficient to show that its strength is enormously greater
along the grain than across it. How, then, is an engineer to
calculate the strength of a wooden member? There is no
theory, in a form available for the engineer, by which the
strength of members made of an anisotropic material can be
calculated.

I fancy I may be told that such a theory is not required—
that experience shows that the ordinary theory is quite near
enough. How utterly misleading such a statement is I will try
to show by a few examples. Suppose a wooden tie or strut is
cut from the tree obliquely so that the grain does not lie parallel
to its length. In practice it is never possible to ensure that the
grain is accurately parallel to the length of the member, and
often the deviation is considerable. How much is the member
weakened? This comparatively simple problem has been of
immense importance in aeroplane construction, and, thanks to
the researches made during the war, can be answered. The
solution has thrown a flood of light on many failures which
before were obscure. If the tensile strengths of a piece of
timber are, say, 18,000 lb./sq. in. along the grain and 800 lb./sq.
in. across it (radially or tangentially) and the shear strength
is 900 lb./sq. in. along the grain—these figures correspond

STRENGTH OF MATERIALS 327

roughly with the strengths of silver spruce—then if a tensile
stress be applied at any angle to the grain the components of
that stress in the principal directions must not exceed the above
strengths, or failure will occur. Thus we can draw curves limit-
ing the stress at any angle to the grain, and similar curves may
be drawn for compression stresses. These theoretical curves
have been checked experimentally, and the results of the tests
confirm them closely except in one particular. The strengths
at small inclination to the grain fall even faster than the theo-
retical curves would lead us to expect. The very rapid drop
in strength for quite small deviations is most striking.

Similar curves have been prepared for tensile and compres-
sive stresses inclined in each of the three principal planes for
spruce, ash, walnut, and mahogany, so that the strengths of
these timbers to resist forces in any direction can now be esti-
mated reasonably accurately.

As a second example consider the strength of plywood. Ply-
wood is the name given to wood built up of several thicknesses
glued together with the grain in alternate thicknesses running
along and across the plank. The result of this crossing of the
grain is that the plywood has roughly equal strength along and
across the plank. Plywood is generally built up of thin veneers,
which are cut from the log by slicing them off as the log revolves
in a lathe.

Owing to the taper in the trunk of the tree and to other
irregularities in form, the grain in the veneer rarely runs
parallel to the surface, but generally runs through the sheet
at amore or less oblique angle. As a consequence the strength
of plywood is very variable, and tests show that it is not
possible to rely on its having more than half the strength it
would have if the grain in the veneers were not oblique. It is
therefore obviously possible to improve the manufacture enor-
mously by using veneers split off, following the grain, in place
of the present sliced veneers. The superiority of split or riven
wood over cut wood has been recognized for ages. I believe all
ladders and ladder rungs are riven. Hurdles, hoops, and laths
are other examples. Knees in ships are chosen so that the
grain follows the required outline.

Owing to the enormous difference in strength in timber
along and across the grain, it is obviously important to get the
grain in exactly the right direction to bear the loads it has to
carry. The most perfect example I ever saw of building up a
plywood structure to support all the loads on it was the frame
of the German Schutte-Lanz airship, which was made entirely

328 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of wood. At the complex junctions of the various girders and
ties the wood, which was built up of very thin veneers—hardly
thicker than plane shavings—layers were put on most ingeni-
ously in the direction of every stress.

During the war I have had to reject numerous types of
built-up struts intended for aeroplanes, because the grain of
the wood was in the wrong direction to bear the load. The
example shown—a McGruer strut—is one of the most elegant
designs, using the grain correctly.

Many of the tests applied to timber are wrong in theory
and consequently misleading. For example, the common
method of determining Young’s modulus for timber is to
measure the elastic deflection of a beam loaded in the middle and
to calculate the modulus by the ordinary theory, neglecting the
deflection due to shear, which is legitimate in isotropic ma-
terials; but in timber the shear modulus is very small—for
example, in spruce it is only about one sixtieth of Young’s
modulus—and consequently the shear deflection becomes quite
appreciable, and the results obtained on test pieces of the
common proportions lead to errors in the calculated Young’s
modulus of about 10 per cent.

The lantern plates show three standard tests; the first is
supposed to give the shearing strength of the timber, but these
test pieces fail by tension across the grain—not by shearing.
Professor Robertson has shown that the true shear strength of
spruce is about three times as great as the text-book figures, and
has designed a test which gives fairly reliable results. The
second figure represents a test intended to give the mean
strength across the grain, but the concentration of stress at the
grooves is so great that such test pieces fail under less than
half the proper load. This fact was shown in a striking manner
by narrowing a sample of this shape to half its width, when it
actually bore a greater total load—z. e., more than double the
stress borne by the original sample. The third figure repre-
sents a test piece intended to measure the rather vague quality,
“strength to resist splitting.” The results actually depend on
the tensile strength across the grain, on the elastic constants,
and on the accidental position of the bottom of the groove rela-
tively to the spring or autumn wood in the annular rings. Un-
less the theory is understood, rational tests can not be devised.

There are some valuable tropical timbers whose structure is
far more complex than that of our ordinary northern woods.
The grain in these timbers grows in alternating spirals—an
arrangement which at first sight is almost incredible. The most

STRENGTH OF MATERIALS 329

striking example of this type of wood I have seen is the Indian
“Poon.” The sample on the table has been split in a series of
tangential planes at varying distances from the center of the
tree, and it will be seen that the grain at one depth is growing
in a right-hand spiral round the trunk; a little farther out it
grows straight up the trunk; further out again it grows in a
left-hand spiral, and this is repeated again and again, with a
pitch of about two inches. The timber is strong and probably
well adapted for use in large pieces—it somewhat resembles
plywood—but it is doubtful whether it is safe in small pieces.
No theory is yet available for estimating its strength, and very
elaborate tests would be needed to determine its reliability in
all positions. I had to reject it for aeroplanes during the war
for want of accurate knowledge of its properties.

These examples show how necessary it is to have a theory
for the strength of anisotropic materials before we can either
understand the causes of their failure or make full use of their
properties or even test them rationally.

The second material we shall consider is steel, and in deal-
ing with it I do not wish to enter into any of the dozen or so
burning questions which are so familiar to all metallurgists and
engineers, but to call your attention to a few more fundamental
questions. Steel is not strictly isotropic—but we may consider
it to be so to-day. The first obvious question the engineer has
to answer is, “ What is its strength?” The usual tests give the
ultimate strength, yield point, elastic limit, the elongation, the
reduction of area, and perhaps the Brinell and Izod figures.
On which of these figures is the dimension of an engine part,
which is being designed, to be based? If we choose the ultimate
strength we must divide it by a large factor of safety—a factor
of ignorance. If we choose the yield point we must remember
that none of the higher-grade steels have any yield point, and
the nominal yield point depends on the fancy of the tester.
This entirely imaginary point can not be used for accurate cal-
culation except in a very few special cases. Can we base our
calculation on the elongation—the reduction of area—the Izod
test? If we face the question honestly we realize that there is
no known connection between the test results and the stress we
can safely call on the steel to bear. The only connecting link is
that cloak for our ignorance—the factor of safety.

I feel confident that the only reliable property on which to
base the strength of any engine part is the suitable fatigue limit.
We have not yet reached the position of being able to specify
this figure, but a considerable number of tests show that in

330 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

a wide range of steeis (though there are some unexplained ex-
ceptions) the fatigue limit for equal + stresses is a little under
half the ultimate strength, and is independent of the elastic
limit and nominal yield point, so that the ultimate strength may
be replaced as the most reliable guide to true strength, with a
factor—no longer of ignorance, but to give the fatigue limit—
of a little over 2.

If the fatigue limit is accepted as the only sound basis for
strength calculation for engine parts, and it is difficult to find
any valid objection to it, then it is obvious that there is urgent
need for extensive researches in fatigue, for the available data
are most meager. The work is laborious, for there is not one
fatigue limit, but a continuous series, as the signs and magni-
tudes of the stresses change. Many problems in connection
with fatigue are of great importance and need much fuller in-
vestigation than they have so far received—e. g., the effect of
speed of testing; the effect of rest and heat treatment in restor-
ing fatigued material; the effect of previous testing at higher
or lower stresses on the apparent fatigue limit of a test piece.
Some observers have found indications that the material may
possibly be strengthened by subjecting it to an alternating stress
below its fatigue limit, so that the results of fatigue tests may
depend on whether the limit is approached by increasing the
stress or by decreasing it.

Improved methods of testing are also needed—particularly
methods which will give the results quickly. Stromeyer’s
method of measuring the first rise of temperature, which indi-
cates that the fatigue limit is passed, as the alternating load is
gradually increased, is most promising; it certainly will not give
the true fatigue limit in all cases, for it has been shown by
Bairstow that with some ranges of stress a finite extension
occurs at the beginning of a test and then ceases, under stresses
lower than the fatigue limit. But the fatigue limit in that
case would not be a safe guide, for finite changes of shape are
not permissible in most machines, so that in that case also
Stromeyer’s test may be exactly what is wanted. It can prob-
ably be simplified in detail and made practicable for commercial
use. Better methods of testing in torsion are also urgently
needed, none of those at present used being free from serious
defects. Finally, there is a fascinating field for physical re-
search in investigating the internal mechanism of fatigue
failure.

JOHN TYNDALL Bal

JOHN TYNDALL 1820-1893)’

By Professor ARTHUR WHITMORE SMITH |
4
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

OHN TYNDALL, British philosopher and physicist, was a

most genial and interesting personality. In him a noble

and generous nature was combined with a resolute will and

lofty principles. He had a fine regard for the rights and feel-

ings of others, and most of his controversies were in defense of
truth and justice.

The great ideas of the conservation of energy and the
mechanical equivalent of heat were novelties in his time, and
his clear thinking and exposition did much to interpret the full
significance of these laws. By the publication of his lectures in
a style both clear and interesting, and expressed in non-techni-
cal language, he reached a large audience, and did more than
any other person to secure the wide diffusion of these all-per-
vading truths that lie at the foundation of physical science.

In the Royal Society’s catalogue of scientific papers 145
titles appear under Tyndall’s name, and his more extensive writ-
ings comprise no less than 16 separate volumes. The complete
story of a life so full can not be given in a single evening, and
the mere reading of the titles of his many papers would occupy
more time than is now allotted to me. But if we can catch a
glimpse of his spirit, and gather a bit of inspiration from the
enthusiasm with which he worked, this half hour will not be
spent in vain.

John Tyndall was born near Carlow, in the southeastern
part of Ireland, on the second of August, 1820. Originally of
English descent, the Tyndalls crossed to Ireland in the seven-
teenth century. The elder John Tyndall, although poor, was a
man of more than ordinary intellect, and he gave his son a good
education in English and mathematics.

To a large extent, Tyndall was a self-made man. His mathe-
matical training enabled him to enter the ordnance survey of
Ireland at the age of nineteen, and because of his skill in draw-
ing he was later selected for the English survey. For three
years he was a civil engineer at Manchester, and during this

1 An address delivered before the Research Club of the University of

Michigan at a meeting commemorating the centenaries of John Tyndall
and Herbert Spencer, 21 April, 1920.

332 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

time he spent much time in reading and in private study. It
was partly through the reading of Carlyle that he was led to
abandon the brilliant possibilities then open to a civil engineer,
and devote his life to scientific study.

For some time he was connected with Queenwood College,
in Hampshire County, where one of his duties was the instruc-
tion of a class in mathematics. His mind was ever on the alert
to observe the natural phenomena of daily life, and his teaching
was no mere following of text-book routine. It was his custom
to give the boys their choice of following Euclid or trying prob-
lems of their own devising. The book was never chosen. Their
diagrams were scratched on the walls and cut in the beams of
the playground, thus showing the lively interest they took in
the subject. They found it pleasant to prove by mathematics,
and then verify by experiment, that the angular velocity of a
reflected beam of light is twice that of the mirror from which
it is reflected. And they were startled by the inference that if
the earth turned seventeen times its actual speed all things at
the equator would lose their weight and have the same tendency
to fall upwards as downwards. The days spent with these boys
made a deep impression upon Tyndall, and he looked forward
to that future day when he might push these subjects a little
further and add his own victories to the conquests already won.

The autumn of 1848 found him at Marburg, where, after
two years of work, he received the degree of doctor of phi-
losophy. His reputation as an investigator was established by
the publication of his work on the magnetic properties of crys-
tals, and the relation of magnetism and diamagnetism to mole-
cular structure. The action of the atoms and molecules held an
irresistible attraction for him and every investigation was con-
ducted with molecular arrangement in mind. He was not satis-
fied with a few typical examples, but he examined nearly a
hundred natural crystals and the entire collection of artificial
crystals in the laboratory of Professor Bunsen. The subject
was studied from every side until he had obtained a clear con-
ception of all the conditions involved, and was able to formulate
the general law.

Faraday had just published his researches on the behavior
of crystals in taking a definite position when suspended between
the poles of a strong magnet. “This force,” he says, “ appears
to me to be very strange and striking in its character ... for
there is neither attraction nor repulsion.”

It required long and patient effort to bring under the do-
minion of elementary principles the vast mass of facts which

JOHN TYNDALL 339

experiments had brought to light, but the more he worked at
the subject the more clearly did it appear to Tyndall that the
action of crystals in the magnetic field was due, not to some
new and unknown force, but to the modification of the known
forces of magnetism and diamagnetism by the crystalline struc-
ture. It was true that the forces were neither attraction nor
repulsion, taken singly, but it was both, thus producing a torque
which turned the crystal into a determined position. The pains-
taking observations and the simply stated conclusion showed
the qualities for which his work was ever distinguished.

Shortly after his return from Marburg he was appointed
professor of physics in the Royal Institution, where Faraday
was then director. Seldom have two men worked together so
harmoniously as did Tyndall and Faraday during the years
that followed. Their relationship from first to last was like that
of father and son, and when Faraday died, fourteen years later,
Tyndall succeeded him as director of the Royal Institution.

It was at this time also that he became acquainted with
Spencer, who was about his own age, and with Huxley who was
five years younger. This was the beginning of the most inti-
mate of friendships. On all sorts of minor topics they were
liable to differ in opinion, and they never hesitated to criticize
each other; but the fundamental harmony between them was
profound, for each cared immeasurably more for truth than for
anything else. It was no small factor in his life for Tyndall to
enjoy the friendship of these two men.

Not all of the investigations of Tyndall were carried out in
the laboratory, for he was always awake to the events of daily
experience. Even the “spirits” did not escape his observation,
and it is especially interesting at this time to read of Tyndall’s
experience in this field.

The spirits themselves named the time and place of meeting,
which proved to be a dinner at a private residence near London.
The medium—a delicate looking young lady—was seated next
to Tyndall. He records a bit of the conversation. He asked
the young lady if she could see the curious things he had heard
about—the light emitted by crystals, for example. ‘Oh, yes,”
she replied, “‘ but I see light around all bodies.”

T. “Even in perfect darkness?”

Med. “Yes; I see luminous atmospheres round all people.
The atmosphere which surrounds Mr. C. would fill this room
with light.”

T. “You are aware of the effects ascribed to magnets?”

Med. “ Yes; but a magnet makes me terribly ill.”

ood THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

T. “Am I to understand that, if this room were perfectly
dark, you could tell whether it contained a magnet, without
being informed of the fact?”

Med. “I should know of its presence on entering the room.”

Th. SHOW

Med. ‘I should be rendered instantly ill.”

T. “How do you feel to-day?”

Med. ‘‘ Particularly well; I have not been so well for
months.”

All the while there was in Tyndall’s pocket, within six inches
of her, a magnet; but he felt that nothing would be gained by
showing it.

On the whole the evening was a dull one, but towards the
end the spirits were asked to spell the name by which Tyndall
was known in the spirit worid. As the alphabet was slowly
repeated a knock was heard when the letter P was reached.
Beginning again, the letter O was knocked down. The next
letter was E.

The knocks seemed to come from under the table, and Tyn-
dall asked permission to go underneath to assure himself of the
origin of the sounds. He remained under that table for a quar-
ter of an hour, and was sure that no sound could be produced
without his being able to locate its source. The spirits were
urged and entreated to finish the word, but they had become
dumb, and could spell no more. Tyndall then returned to his
chair, but not without a feeling of despair regarding the pros-
pects of humanity, never before experienced.

The spirits, however, resumed their spelling, and dubbed
him, “ Poet of Science.” More than once after this he accepted
invitations to be with the spirits. His comment is, “they do
not improve on acquaintance. Surely no baser delusion ever
obtained dominance over the weak mind of man.”

In the autumn of 1854 Tyndall attended a meeting of the
British Association at Liverpool, and at its close he took the
opportunity to visit North Wales, where he saw the slate quar-
ries. It interested him to see how readily the rock split open
in parallel planes, like wood before an axe. The explanation
that these were the layers in which the material was deposited
did not satisfy him. Consultation with geologists showed him
that the planes of cleavage were not those of stratification, and
further investigation on numerous substances convinced him
that the cleavage was caused by the effects of pressure.

Two years later these phenomena were made the subject of
a lecture at the Royal Institution. His friend Huxley was

JOHN TYNDALL 335

present, and suggested that this aspect of slaty cleavage might
have some bearing on the laminated structure of glacier ice.
They were both going to Switzerland that summer, and they
arranged a joint excursion over some of the famous glaciers,
where they could observe together the veined structure of
the ice.

No man knows, when he commences the examination of a
physical problem, where it will lead him. For Tyndall this was
the beginning of many visits to the Alps, where he continued
the study of glaciers for many summers. He satisfied himself
that the veined structure was due to pressure, but he was especi-
ally interested in learning how a crystalline solid like ice could
flow like a liquid. He pointed out the inadequacy of earlier
theories, and showed by experimental demonstration that the
flow was due to continued minute fracture and subsequent re-
freezing of the ice.

But once in Switzerland, the fascination of the mountains
claimed him, and he became an Alpine enthusiast. Summer
after summer he returned to conquer some untrodden Alp, or
continue an unfinished investigation. The ascent of Mont Blanc
was not complete without planting thermometers at several
stations to record the cold of winter while he was absent. Nor
was science alone to benefit from these excursions. The vol-
umes that record his experiences are gems of literature, per-
vaded from cover to cover with the vigor and freshness of the
Alpine air.

Tyndall always considered original investigation to be the
great object of his life, and his most extensive researches are
those in the domain of radiant heat. These experiments were
stimulated by the conviction that not only the physical, but also
the molecular, condition of bodies probably played a very im-
portant part in the phenomena of the radiation and absorption
of heat. He wanted to show the physical significance of an
atomic theory which had been founded on purely chemical con-
siderations, and this object was continually kept in mind.
Radiant heat was used as an instrument to explore molecular
condition, and to bring clearly into view the astonishing change
in physical properties when the atoms of simple gases unite to
form more complex combinations.

As new advance often awaits the production of new instru-
ments, so Tyndall’s first requirement was a galvanometer of
increased sensitiveness. Having made this galvanometer, and
also a sensitive thermo-pile, he proceeded to examine the absorp-
tion of radiant heat by various gases. The gas to be examined

336 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

was placed in a long tube, closed at each end with windows of
rock salt. The source of heat was a copper cube filled with hot
water. The heat radiating from this copper box passed through
the gas in the tube and fell upon the thermopile placed just out-
side the farther window. The other face of the thermo-pile was
warmed from a second source, similar to the first. When the
tube was empty, the galvanometer pointed to zero. When the
tube was filled with gas, if the molecules possessed any power
of intercepting the heat waves, that side of the thermo-pile
would receive less heat, and the galvanometer would show a
deflection corresponding to the amount of heat thus absorbed
by the gas.

Examined in this manner, dry air, oxygen, nitrogen, and
hydrogen showed a very slight absorption of the radiant heat.
But when in chemical combination, the astonishing fact ap-
peared that carbon dioxide absorbed nearly 1,000 times as much
as dry air. Nitric oxide absorbed 1,600 times as much as either
nitrogen or oxygen. And ammonia absorbed 5,500 times as
much as either of its constituents. To make sure that these
results were real, and that errors in the method of observation,
or impurities in the gases used, did not mask the true effects,
required some thousands of experiments. Observations were
repeated again and again, and under various conditions, until
he was thoroughly familiar with all the factors that could affect
the result. And conclusions were not published until the experi-
ments had convinced him that they were correct.

The case of aqueous vapor in the air proved so interesting
and important that a special series of experiments was made
upon it. Not only was the air of London examined, but to avoid
possible errors due to the effect of local impurities, air was
brought from the country and from the seashore. This air,
containing the normal amount of aqueous vapor, absorbed 70
times as much heat as air from which the moisture had been
removed.

The importance of these results are manifest when they are
stated in a different way. It appears from this that the aqueous
vapor which exists within ten feet of the earth’s surface on a
day of moderate humidity is sufficient to absorb 19 per cent.
of the entire terrestrial radiation, a considerable portion of
which is thus returned to the earth. He thus explained the
burning heat by day, followed by the enormous chilling at night,
in those places that are not protected by a blanket of moist air.
In a general way, this has been referred to the purity of the
air, but this purity consists in the absence of the transparent

JOHN TYNDALL 307

vapor, rather than that of smoke or other visible constituent.

Thus a comparatively slight change in the variable constitu-
ents of the atmosphere, by permitting free access of solar heat
to the earth and checking the outflow of terrestrial heat into
space, might produce changes of climate as great as those which
the discoveries of geology reveal.

An extension of this inquiry led him to investigate the ab-
sorption of heat by various liquids and their vapors. The be-
havior of these vapors placed them in a definite order of relative
absorption. For heat of the same quality, and using equivalent
amounts of the different liquids, he proved that the liquids
occupied the same order as their vapors. This led him to the
conclusion that the act of absorption is molecular, and that the
molecule maintains its power as an absorber and radiator in
spite of its change from liquid to vapor. Later he considered
this action as due, in large part, to the atoms composing the
molecule, rather than its being solely a property of the molecule
as a whole.

In another series of experiments the source of radiant heat
was a flame of burning gas. The radiation from the hydrogen
flame possessed a peculiar interest, for he thought it likely that
the resonance between its periods of vibration and those of the
coo. aqueous vapor of the air might be such as to cause the
atmospheric vapor to exert a special absorbent power.

His surmise in this respect was justified, for he found that
20 per cent. of the total radiation from the hydrogen flame was
absorbed by 50 inches of wndried air, whereas only about 6 per
cent. of the radiation from a hot platinum spiral was thus ab-
sorbed. Nor was this resonance confined to aqueous vapor.
The dried air, which was now transparent to the hydrogen
flame, was able to absorb 14 per cent. of the heat from a flame
of carbon monoxide. Air from the lungs, with the moisture re-
moved, was able to intercept 50 per cent. of the entire radiation
from the carbon monoxide flame.

As a result of these investigations, carried out with extreme
care and in great detail, he showed the very intimate relation
between the absorption of heat and the molecular condition of
the absorbing body.

In connection with these experiments, he also showed that
those bodies that were the most efficient absorbers of radiant
heat were likewise the best radiators of that same heat.

But while we are greatly indebted to Tyndall for the new
knowledge which he discovered in the domains of heat and other
branches of physics, his name will continue to be loved and re-

VOL. XI.—22.

333 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

membered even more for the interesting lectures in which his
methods of research were explained to public audiences, and the
fundamental principles of science made clear to them.

It must have been a delight to listen to him. He was famed
for the charm and animation of his language, for lucidity of
exposition, and singular skill in devising and conducting ex-
perimental illustrations. Both he and his younger friend Hux-
ley were popular with the London audiences, but they were very
different. Huxley convinced his audience and compelled their
assent; Tyndall carried them with him. They could not help
agreeing with Huxley even if they did not wish to do so; they
wished to agree with Tyndall if they could. It was the aim of
Tyndall to rise to the level of his subject from a basis so ele-
mentary that every one in his audience could comprehend it,
and then to lead them on by experimental demonstrations to a
more complete understanding of the truths of Nature.

In the autumn of 1872 he came to America, where, in sev-
eral of the eastern cities, he delivered a series of lectures on
“Light.” His success as a lecturer was complete. At first he
was somewhat in doubt regarding the intellectual level that
might be expected of the audiences, but he received early warn-
ing to talk the same as he would at the Royal Institution. One
who heard him says: “It was a rare treat to hear him lecture.
His illustrative experiments were beautifully done, his speech
was easy and eloquent, and his manner, so frank and earnest
and kindly, was extremely winning.” His reception through-
out was that of a friend by friends; and he looked back upon his
visit as a memory without a single stain of unpleasantness.

The noble nature of the man and his unselfish devotion to
the science he loved is shown by his attitude towards financial
reward. This lecture season brought him about $13,000 over
his actual expenses, but he would not take a cent of it. He
left it all in the hands of trustees as a fund for the benefit of
science in America. At the present time this fund is in the
form of three graduate fellowships in physics—at Harvard,
Columbia, and the University of Pennsylvania. It is of interest
to recall that one of our own men has recently enjoyed one of
these fellowships.

Tyndall, like most of his friends, was a reverent agnostic.
He did not believe that the ultimate truths of the universe could
be expressed in words, or that our limited and finite intelligence
could as yet comprehend them. His writings, however, contain
many phrases which show that he was familiar with the bocks
of Holy Scripture. And often, after a Sunday evening tea, he
would join his friends in the singing of psalm tunes.

JOHN TYNDALL 339

On the question of miracles, he did not deny their possibility,
but he compares, for example, the horse power involved in stop-
ping the sun and moon (or was it merely the rotation of the
earth?) with the feeble efforts expended by Joshua and his men
in pursuing the five kings of the Amorites. And with charac-
teristic consideration for the author, he points out that for him
the sun was only a moving lantern, whose motion could be varied
at the will of the appropriate authority.

His views on the great question of the relation between
science and religion were expressed in his presidential address
before the British Association at Belfast. In this address he
outlined the fortunes of science from the times of the Greeks
and the Moors, and depicted the struggle of truth against igno-
rance and superstition. Tracing back the theory of Darwin to
the beginnings of life, he saw only the unbroken workings of
Nature, extending beyond the range of experimental evidence,
and this led him to the conclusion that the possibility of life
must have existed in the atoms of the nebule.

He strongly maintained the claims of science to discuss such
questions fully and freely in all their bearings, whatever the
results might be. Such an address, delivered at the present
time, would cause scarcely a ripple of dissent, but at that time
it brought down on his head the severe criticism of those who
differed from him, and a three days fast was proclaimed to keep
infidelity out of Ireland.

An accident in the Alps may have been the cause that turned
his mind to investigations in another direction. Having taken
a shower bath under the cascade of an Alpine stream, he was
returning for his clothes when he slipped and the sharp granite
pierced his shin. Dipping his handkerchief in the clear water
of the stream he bound up the wound and limped to his hut,
where he lay quietly for several days. There was no pain, and
upon removing the bandage the wound was found to be clean
and uninflamed. But it soon became inflamed, and he had to
be carried on men’s shoulders to Geneva, where for six weeks
he was confined to his bed.

About this time there was considerable dissension regarding
the spontaneous generation of life, and Tyndall could not let
such a question of fact pass by without adding his own clear
logic to the discussion.

In the investigations on radiant heat it had been necessary
to use air from which all traces of floating dust had been re-
moved. A sensitive test of such purity was found in a concen-
trated beam of intense light, which rendered visible particles
smaller than any microscope could detect.

340 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Convinced that the reported cases of spontaneous genera-
tion of life were due to infection from the air, he wanted to
try the effect of this optically pure air. Fifty wooden chambers
were built, with windows on each side for the passage of a
strong beam of light. When this showed that the air within was
free from floating particles, various infusions of meat and vege-
table were introduced in open test tubes and properly sterilized.
There was no shade of uncertainty in any of the results. All of
the infusions remained pure and sweet, although some of them
remained freely exposed to the air in the chamber for over a
year. Out of a total of 500 chances, there was no appearance of
spontaneous generation. But when the air from the laboratory
was allowed to enter the chambers, the infusions swarmed with
life in two or three days.

Believing in the germ theory, and realizing that in certain
stages of development the germs are more readily destroyed by
heat, he devised the method of sterilization by repeated heating.
In this method the infusion is brought to the boiling point, and
then set aside for ten or twelve hours, after which it is brought
to the boiling point again. Successive heatings in this manner
destroyed the most resistant germs, three minutes of repeated
boiling being more effective than 300 minutes of continuous
heating.

In recognition of these researches he was given the degree
of M.D. by the medical faculty of Tiibingen.

At the age of 55 he married the charming and accomplished
daughter of Lord Hamilton, whom he met during one of his
Alpine excursions. They were companions in all things, living
in his rooms at the Royal Institution, and spending their sum-
mers among his old haunts in the Alps. But his later years
were marred by ill health and sleeplessness, and by accident,
one evening in 1898 he took an overdose of chloral, from the
effects of which he never awoke.

No other man had done more by research, lectures and
writings, to discover and disseminate a sound knowledge of
natural phenomena. And because there was no sacrifice of
truth for popularity, the books he wrote half a century ago are
classics at the present time.

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH 341

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH’

By GEORGE K. BURGESS, Sc.D.

CHIEF, DIVISION OF METALLURGY, BUREAU OF STANDARDS, WASHINGTON, D. C.

S an aftermath of war, the past two years have witnessed
A an unparalleled interest of world wide extent in the sub-
ject of scientific research, embracing its aims, scope and
methods, as well as its relation to industry, university and gov-
ernment. A remarkable series of contributions and addresses,
written mainly by leaders in, or directors of research, have
called attention to the various aspects of the subject and have
served to inform the public mind and stimulate it to a realiza-
tion of the importance of research to the community on the one
hand and the danger which attends ill considered plans on the
other.

One of the most important forums for discussion of this
fundamental subject has been the Royal Canadian Institute and
I would like to recall, in this connection, particularly, the ad-
dresses before this Institute of Dr. George E. Hale on “ Co-
operation in Research” and Dr. Frank B. Jewett on “ Industrial
Research.” It so happens that Messrs. Hale, Jewett and myself
have been identified each with a separate and distinctive phase
of the development of research; Dr. Hale with science unalloyed
with industrial aspects or governmental control, Dr. Jewett
with the applications of science to an industry, and the writer
with scientific research in a government department. The pre-
liminary training of each of us was remarkably similar; we are
all graduates of the Masschusetts Institute of Technology, spe-
cializing in physical science and all had supplementary uni-
versity training and some teaching experience, since which each
has made his life’s work in his chosen field of research of the
three characteristic types, institutional, industrial, and govern-
mental. We are all therefore exponents of the group method of
carrying on research.

As a represagtative of this third type, that is, of research
under government auspices, it may not be without interest to
you to have from me a statement regarding the conduct of re-
search in a Government Laboratory. I can of course do no
better than give you the impression I have received from the
development of the laboratories with which I am associated,

1 Given at Royal Canadian Institute, April 24, 1920.

342 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

those of the Bureau of Standards, and especially in their rela-
tion to the public and the government in my own field of

metallurgy.

I would first however call to your attention the tendency
toward a somewhat different orientation of the relations of gov-
ernment to scientific research in the two countries that are most
intimately related in blood and institutions to Canada, namely,
Great Britain and the United States.

The relations of the British Government to research are set
forth with great completeness in the annual reports of the Com-
mittee of the Privy Council for Scientific and Industrial Re-
search and are ably summarized by Sir Frank Heath in an ad-
dress before the society of Arts on “The Government and the
Organization of Scientific Research.’ The cardinal principles
which have guided the development of this trust are set forth
in Privy Council Committee’s Report of 1918-19 and will bear
repeating:

We believe, in the first place, that while it is possible for the state by
means of suitable grants to individuals or the generous support of univer-
sities and other independent institutions for research to encourage the
pursuit of research in pure science, it is dangerous and even fatal to
attempt to organize it. Research of this nature has no other aim than the
creation of new knowledge and is impatient of the control which is insepa-
rable from the idea of external organization. On the other hand, it is
necessary for the modern State to organize research, including those
simpler types of research which we may call investigation into problems
which directly affect the well-being of large sections of its people. Such
researches and investigation, deal either with applied science or if they
are conducted in the realm of pure science are undertaken with a specific
end in view....

But in the second place, if the organization of research for public
purposes is to be effective and economical which will be cognizant of the
general lines of research undertaken by different departments of govern-
ment, and a central body connected therewith capable of undertaking or
organizing research which it is agreed can best be conducted by one agency
in the interests of all.

In the third place, it is dangerous and even fatal under peace condi-
tions for the state to attempt to conduct researches and investigations for
the immediate benefit of industries which are not under state management.
Industrial research is as integral a part of production or distribution as
advertisement or insurance. But this does not preclude the state from
encouraging the organization of research within an industry by means of
grants-in-aid made under suitable conditions, or even by means of pre-
liminary demonstrations of the valuable results which a well-conducted
research may be expected to secure.

Finally, it would be fatal to the success of a department entrusted
with the encouragement and organization of research to concern itself
with exploitation or commercial development or administrative application
of the results which may be obtained... .

? Sir Frank Heath, Jl. Roy. Arts, February 21, 1919.

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH 343

It should be noted also that the English plan separates the
administrative functions from the technical or scientific, the
policies and progress of the latter being exclusively under the
control of advisory committees composed of scientific or tech-
nical experts who are not members of the Department.

In the United State, the major branches of scientific re-
search under governmental jurisdiction have not been gathered
together under a single administrative head as in England but
have been left each to the independent direction of the depart-
ment of state in which it may be accidentally located, although
there is now under consideration a measure that would group all
the engineering and many of the scientific bureaus, except those
dealing with agriculture, under a single Department of Public
Works. The direction of scientific work, as at present organ-
ized, is almost exclusively in the hands of scientific men who
combine the functions of an administrator and leader in
research.

The American plan of independent administrative units does
not mean that there are not often very intimate relations be-
tween scientific services in the various government departments
including interchange of programs, partition of projects be-
tween them and other forms of cooperation maintained by a
sufficiently close liaison, either formal or informal; although it
could hardly be maintained that this common effort is as ef-
fective in all cases as could be wished. Again, certain scientific
and technical services, such as the Advisory Committee for
Aeronautics, are specifically constituted by law to include a
membership from the several interested departments and the
research work of this Committee is distributed among them.
This method of bringing together the representatives of several
branches of the service, some dealing with the application and
others with the solutions of scientific problems in a definite field
of research, makes for better understanding between theory
and practice, and the scientific workers have the benefit of valu-
able advice from the men who are to use the results of the in-
‘vestigation. This constant interplay is beneficial to both. This
method of joint research control could be extended with ad-
vantage to many other fields of the applications of science in
which the government is interested.

One of the most important and fundamental fields of general
interest, in which a beginning has been made to bring the de-
partments together, is that of standardization and specifications.
It has been proposed to make the Bureau of Standards a clear-
ing house of, information—to use the British term—on these
subjects for the government. There are great possibilties here

344 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

for realizing economies in purchases and improvements in de-
sign and there will also result inevitably a considerable impetus
to scientific research, especially on fundamental constants and
properties of materials which form the basis of constructing
standards and writing specifications. The formation of the
American Engineering Standards Committee, in which the De-
partments of Commerce, Navy and War are represented and
which is now working in a highly satisfactory manner, forms
a further liaison with the public through the Engineering So-
cieties, which again makes for development and improvement
in many domains tributary to scientific research.

In looking over the multiplicity of research projects sup-
ported by the United States Government, one might easily get
the impression that with such a widely scattered responsibility,
as actually exists, for the planning of research in the various
government departments, there might arise considerable con-
fusion and duplication. A careful survey of the situation, how-
ever, would soon convince one of the surprisingly slight amount
of overlapping in the scientific work among the several depart-
ments. I can speak with some positiveness on this subject as
I have been recently occupied in such a survey as a member of
the Board which has just completed a study in duplication in
scientific work carried on by the government; and it is a fact
that actual duplication is almost non-existent.

Although there are in the United States for certain lines of
governmental scientific research, such formal or informal] ad-
visory technical committees as mentioned above, the role of
initiation, correlation and stimulation of research, including
industrial scientific research, taken in England by the De-
partment of Scientific and Industrial Research, has been, in
the United States, largely assumed within the past year or two
by the National Research Council, the organization and scope
of which has been so ably set forth before this Institute by its
first Chairman, Dr. Hale.

The impetus given in England by the Government to the
organization and support of Research Associations has been,
it seems to me, one of the most remarkable of recent achieve-
ments in the successful intervention by a government for the
encouragement of national industries by aiding in the formation
of a type of organization by which the industries can best help
themselves. The crucial test of this method of stimulating in-
dustrial research will in all probability come after the five years
time limit of government support is reached when the Research
Associations will have to shift for themselves.

The Research Council has been endeavoring to foster in the

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH 345

United States the formation of somewhat similar cooperative
scientific research associations among several of the American
industries, but to this date, it would appear safe to say, with
but indifferent success. It is perhaps, not too early to ask, why
does the formation of such Research Associations readily suc-
ceed in Great Britain and apparently not in the United States?
Is it because of government initiative and support that they are
established so promptly in England and would they be eventu-
ally in the United States if such support were forthcoming? Is
it, that in the United States the industries are already provided
with all the research assistance they need or can make use of?
Or, on the other hand, can it be argued our industrial leaders
are not yet convinced of the value of this type of cooperative
research? I do not venture to answer these questions, replies
to which in the last analysis may be but a formulation of under-
lying national characteristics; but possibly you in Canada by
your solution of the problem will help shed light that will
aid us all.

What has been the policy of the Government of the United
States toward scientific research and its applications to the in-
dustries of the country? To put the question is to call forth im-
mediately, what is familiar to you all, the response that in many
fields, notably in the agricultural sciences, the Government has
been the most generous of sponsors. It is also supporting re-
search in almost all domains of pure and applied science from
astronomy and mathematics to metallurgy and road construc-
tion, and in many other branches than agricultural research
it has been the pioneer and still is the leader. Moreover, in
recent years, there has been a marked advance in governmental
support of scientific research fundamental to industry, particu-
larly as exemplified by the Bureau of Mines and of Standards.

So much has been written recently about the advantages,
including atmosphere, surroundings and status of research con-
ducted under university or institutional guidance on the one
hand and in industrial establishments on the other hand, and
so little has been said—and silence may appear to be more
eloquent than speech under certain conditions—of the advan-
tages of research under governmental auspices, that it is diffi-
cult to resist setting forth here some of the conditions, as I see
them, of research in a government department and of the posi-
tion of the scientific men in the government service.

If government service, which we must remember is service
for the public, is so unattractive, as certain writers have inti-
mated, why for instance has the senior scientific staff of the
Bureau of Standards remained nearly intact from its founda-

346 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tion nearly twenty years ago? There must be some other than
pecuniary advantages to account for this stability of position
among scientific leaders, which has been the rule, rather than
the exception, until very recently in most of the scientific estab-
lishments of the American government. The present moment,
marked by scientific men leaving the government in unprece-
dented numbers, may be accounted for primarily by the bidding
for their services by industries and institutions that have been
able to readjust their salary scales to meet the mounting cost
of living more promptly than had the government. It is within
reason to suppose however that this situation will be eventually
readjusted.

What then are some of the advantages to the scientific man
of his position in the government service as compared with the
university man or the man in a research laboratory pertaining
to industry, The attributes the research worker most cherishes
are freedom for development within his chosen field; unham-
pered opportunity to publish the results of his discoveries; the
stimulation afforded by the congenial atmosphere of sympa-
thetic and critical co-workers; an absence of extraneous, irk-
some tasks; in the existence and maintenance of the ever
changing material facilities for research. Taking the Bureau
of Standards as a type of governmental institution devoted
largely to scientific research, I can state from experience I know
of no other type where these desirable attributes are more
happily blended than here.

There is also the added satisfaction, or privilege if you will,
the “‘ government scientist’ possesses, in that he is conscious of
working directly for the public welfare in response to a public
demand, expressed through the representatives of the people
in Congress by their allotment of funds to support his work.
This direct relation to the public—and it is much more intimate
than many persons realize—gives him a pride and confidence in
his accomplishments that cannot be had by any one working
solely for himself and his science or for an industry or com-
mercial firm. His sense of responsibility is enhanced and he
will plan his work accordingly. As he demonstrates his ability
to make efficient use of it, his freedom of choice of subjects is
almost unlimited, and he has absolute liberty as to his methods
of attacking the problems he sets out to solve. I wonder if
more can be said for any other type of research center?

The craving to communicate his ideas and exhibit his work
to others is a well-known trait of the scientific man. Among
the hundreds, nay thousands of investigators in the industrial
research laboratories the ideals of which have been outlined by

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH 347

Messrs. Jewett, Mees,*? Carty, Nutting, how many of these men
have the opportunity of free communion with others? On all
important problems—important from the technical, competi-
tive point of view—absolute silence is usually the most rigid of
pass words. What might become many able contributions to
science never see the light of day, on account of, what appears
to me, a misguided policy of secrecy which often extends to
unessentials, from the manufacturer’s point of view, in an in-
dustrial research laboratory. The following is an illustration
among many: the director of a long-established industrial re-
search laboratory showed me the other day the reports on a
series of long since completed but as yet unpublished investiga-
tion of considerable general interest, two of which had just been
duplicated and published by the Bureau of Standards where we
had no knowledge of the previous work. In addition to the
economic waste of unnecessary duplication, what is the effect
on the morale of the men who did the work first and had it sup-
pressed except for use in the plant?

The benefits of association and working in a community of
considerable size where there may be rapid interchange and im-
mediate availability of information and experimental facilities
are often overlooked by those who advocate the advantages of
research by lone individuals in the conditions of practical
isolation often prevailing in even our larger universities. The
laboratories of the government, and to a less extent the larger
industrial laboratories, should be and unquestionably are able
to secure more rapid progress and greater effectiveness in the
execution of research than can the isolated worker.

Then as to the facilities or tools of research, the public
laboratories, speaking generally, are better equipped than most
private laboratories, although some of the industries maintain
laboratories before which even the government laboratories
pale. The industrial research laboratories to be effective must
also possess as adjuncts development laboratories for manu-
facturing on an experimental scale. In pure science there are
many problems, often the most fundamental such as the exact
determination of physical constants and standards, which re-
quire very elaborate and costly layouts and often take a series
of years for their completion. Such can best be left to the gov-
ernment laboratories.

It would thus appear that viewed from these various stand-
points of freedom, publication, facilities, atmosphere, so dear to

8C. L. K. Mees, “ The Organization of Industrial Scientific Research,”
McGraw Hill, 1920, contains an excellent bibliography of recent titles.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the research worker he is at least as well off in the government
laboratory as elsewhere.

As an example of the operation of a government research
laboratory in the United States, let us take the Division of
Metallurgy of the Bureau of Standards. What does it do and
how?

First as to organization; the Bureau is divided for ad-
ministrative convenience into twelve divisions, the office, the
plant, the shops, and nine scientific or technical divisions, each
constituting one of the branches of scientific work carried out
at the Bureau, electricity, optics, heat, chemistry, weights and
measures, metallurgy, engineering physics, structural materials,
ceramics. Each division is again divided into sections; thus in
metallurgy there are sections of: (1) Microscopy and Structure
of Metals, (2) Heat Treatment and Thermal Analysis, (3)
Working and Miscellaneous Properties, (4) Chemical Metal-
lurgy, (5) Foundry.

The methods of directing and conducting the research work
within the division we may mention briefly. There are no rules
and regulations. Funds are allotted to the Division either by
direct appropriation of Congress for a specific purpose or from
the general funds of the Bureau by the director. Each research
is authorized by the director on the written advice of the
division chief. At meetings of the leaders within the division
the program of work is considered and as a result of these dis-
cussions supplemented by written estimates the divisional
budget is made up. Frequent conferences of the leaders are
held to determine questions of policy and the progress of the
work is fully discussed. Occasional meetings of the separate
sections are also held, and there are also constantly being held
informal conferences of members of the staff interested in any
problem. The whole Division meets once in two weeks when a
formal presentation of some investigation is given by its author.
Each member of the Division presents a monthly progress re-
port in writing. The papers offered for publication are re-
viewed critically by a committee of experts within the Bureau.
A personnel committee consisting of all chiefs of divisions passes
on most promotions.

The supervision of the routine work of testing and stand-
ardization is carried out by the leaders in research covering
the same subject. There may or may not be a distinction be-
tween the personnel engaged in testing and research depending
upon circumstances. This arrangement makes for flexibility,
and avoids indivious distinctions and has worked extremely
well. Men showing an aptitude for research have the oppor-

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH 349

tunity to show it even if they may be assigned originally to
routine work, and conversely. The skeleton of the organization
is however of little importance as compared with its spirit.
The Bureau of Standards consists above all of men and women
imbued with high ideals and is a living organism of the highest
type.

The Division of Metallurgy was formed in July, 1913, and
has grown in population from one to fifty-seven and has ac-
quired a very complete equipment to meet the needs of metal-
lurgical research and testing. Over the development of testing
we have no immediate control. The public and the government
departments send us what they will and we try to satisfy their
demands. It is a remarkable fact worthy of note that whenever
a new line of testing is announced, immediately there is set up
a never-ceasing flow of materials or instruments for test, the
volume of which is oftentimes embarrassing; and in conse-
quence one of our most difficult problems is to adjust equitably
our efforts as between the execution of tests, our routine work,
and the carrying out of investigations, our preferred work of
at least equal urgency. There is here of course the ever present
danger of too easily choosing the immediate for the permanent.
Although not so vociferously expressed the real demand for
knowledge concerning fundamental constants and properties is
at least as great as the need expressed in the polite but insistent
requests for the report on a trivial test of a material of interest
to but one party. We are obliged to remind ourselves at times
that we are here to serve the best interests of the public in our
several domains of science.

The field covered by our metallurgical researches and in-
vestigations embraces subjects confined mainly to what has
been called- products metallurgy as distinguished from what is
called process metallurgy which latter is illustrated by the re-
duction of metals from their ores, the field of the Bureau of
Mines.

As one of the subjects of metallurgical research which will
undoubtedly have far-reaching consequences, mention may be
made of the study of gases in steel, including the development
of methods of analysis; the determination of the quantity and
manner on inclusion of the several gases which may be present
such as oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen and the oxides of carbon;
and the characteristic gas content for steels of different com-
position and as determined by the method of manufacture. An
immediate application of the methods here employed has been
developed in our investigation of steel welding methods and
products. The clearing up of the behavior of welded metals as

350 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

influenced by its gas content will aid greatly in solving some of
the difficult problems connected with the welding art.

We were greatly concerned during the war with the scarcity,
real or threatened, of several minerals and metals of vital
necessity to the industries of the country. Among these were
manganese, tin and platinum, and it became necessary to modify
manufacturing process and devise suitable substitutes. We did
a great deal of research work along these lines. Thus in the
case of tin, for example, which is all imported, we developed a
satisfactory solder containing only ten per cent. of tin instead
of the usual 40 or 50 per cent. This solder containing also 80
per cent. lead and 10 per cent. cadnium was as cheap as ordinary
solder. The tin content of bearing metals for most uses, it was
shown, could be very greatly reduced; and for the tin bronzes
satisfactory alloys, if made of available metals, were substi-
tuted. In fact, I believe America could have carried on with
some ten per cent. of the normal tin consumption.

A great deal of attention is given constantly to questions
connected with the various types of failure of metals and metal
products such ag flaky steel and internal fissures, railroad ma-
terials and stress corrosion in structural bronzes, to mention
but two types, and numerous papers on these subjects have been
published by the staff. The various and puzzling aspects of the
corrosion of metals also requires constant attention.

There is now under way a series of investigations on special
steels including structural steels, high speed steels, and their
substitutes, high chromium steels of various types, and of steels
containing unusual elements.

Some of the other subjects of metallurgical research are
copper crushes guages for testing powder, improvement of
machine gun barrels to resist erosion, identification tags for the
Army and Navy, spark plug electrodes, characteristics of bear-
ing metals, metals for aeronautical instruments, centrifugal
steel castings, comparison of ingot practice in steel manufac-
ture, temperature control of metallurgical manufacturing opera-
tions, embrittling of the steel parts by cleaning, pickling and
plating, standard test bars for various alloys, and many other
matters.

I shall not tire you, however, with an enumeration, much
less with a description, of each of the seventy odd research
problems in metallurgy with which we are occupied. They may
be found in summary form from year to year in the annual re-
ports of the director and appear in detail as they are completed
in the publications of the Bureau and the scientific press. I
may mention, however, some of the broad lines along which we

GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH bol

are orienting our work and in doing so will endeavor to empha-
size the cooperative aspects of this research work, for much of
it is undertaken after consultation or in active participation
with other groups having also an interest or a part in its
accomplishment.

This cooperation in research takes several forms and is of
various types; thus there may be one or more of the other de-
partments of the government interested in the prosecution of a
research in which we also have an interest. For example, there
has been carried out an investigation of considerable magnitude
on the development and properties of a series of special steels
with a view to their serviceability for light armor; in that re-
search the Bureaus of Mines, Standards and Navy Ordnance
have participated. Again, in consultation with the Advisory
Committee for Aeronautics a series of researches on light
aluminum alloys have been carried out. For the Army Ord-
nance, and sometimes in cooperation with that establishment, a
whole series of investigations have been executed or are still
under way. The list of interdepartmental cooperative re-
searches in metallurgy is of quite considerable length, but the
above illustrations may suffice to show that to secure scientific
coordination among the government departments a central body
is not indispensable.

Turning now to our cooperative relations with non-govern-
mental bodies our relations with some of the scientific and tech-
nical societies are very close. Thus the work of the American
Society for Testing Materials is largely participated in by the
Bureau and particularly in Metallurgy our work has often been
oriented to meet the desires of the various technical committees
which are planning important lines of research of interest to
science and industry; for example, coated metals, corrosion of
iron and steel, the standardization of ladle test ingots in steel
making.

With tthe National Research Council and its several com-
mittees on metallurgical matters we are in most active coopera-
tion; I need but mention the work of the Pyrometer Committee
and the extraordinarily successful symposium on pyrometry
held at the meeting last fall of the American Institute of Mining
and Metallurgical Engineers.

There is still another type of cooperation that should be
mentioned, namely, the solving in the government laboratory of
some of the problems fundamental to manufacturing processes
and standards which are of interest to an industry as a whole.
The development of this type of cooperative industrial research
is still in its infancy in the United States, and evidently requires

352 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

an experimental manufacturing plant for each type of industry.
We have made some provision for this field of development in
metallurgy by installing several operating or semi-manufactur-
ing units which, on a quarter ton basis, will allow us to make
any metal or alloy, submit it to various heat treatments, shape
and work it by rolling, forging, or drawing.

I should like, before closing, to call your attention to a co-
operative research of the greatest economic importance, con-
ceived on a somewhat more comprehensive scale than anything
else we have hitherto undertaken; I refer to the investigation
just gotten under way under the auspices of a Joint Committee
to study the effects of sulphur and phosphorous in steel and
in the specifications for the various grades of steel. This
is a subject about which there is a great deal of diverse opinion
and the experimental results published thus far have not been
considered of sufficient weight to justify changing the present
and long accepted values of sulphur and phosphorous contents
in steel by responsible specification making bodies.

The Joint Committee, the chairmanship of which is held by
the Bureau of Standards, is constituted with representatives of
the government including the Departments of Commerce, War
and Navy, steel makers, and specification making bodies in-
cluding the American Society for Testing Materials, the rail-
roads, the automotive and shipping industries. It is hoped, in
view of the fact that the program of tests is mapped out by
unanimous agreement of all interested parties; the steel manu-
facture witnessed by representatives of all interests; and the
tests carried out in government laboratories, that the results of
this elaborate research will be determinative as to revision of
the specifications in question.

With this summary review of a few of the aspects of govern-
mental research, as I see them, and as illustrated specifically in
the work in Metallurgy at the Bureau of Standards, I trust you
will carry away the impression, which I have endeavored to
convey, that there is a human side to research and that in the
government service it is possible to be very close to the public,
in fact a part of the public and not a group set apart to solve
abstruse problems of little general interest. I believe it not
only desirable but absolutely essential that a government labora-
tory, and by that term I mean the men who work in it, keep in
closest possible touch with the professional as well as the non-
technical public it serves and that a crucial test of the useful-
ness of such a laboratory is the interest and above all the con-
fidence it inspires.

o

MATHEMATICIAN, FARMER AND WEATHER 350

THE MATHEMATICIAN, THE FARMER AND
THE WEATHER

By THOMAS ARTHUR BLAIR
METEOROLOGIST, U. S. WEATHER BUREAU

T may have been true when Mark Twain said it, “‘ Everybody
talks about the weather, but nobody does anything,” but
now-a-days the mathematicians are doing something. They are
hitching the weather to the engine of a formula, measuring it
with the yardstick of an equation, and weighing it in the bal-
ances of a co-efficient. They can tell how many million dollars
a half inch of rain on the fifth of August wil! add to the corn
crop of Ohio; how many additional automobiles the farmers can
purchase as a result of a week of warm weather while the wheat
heads are filling; and how much smaller the world’s supply of
cotton will be because of an August drought in Georgia.
Aspiring poets used to lament that all the possible figures
of speech were long since exhausted, but the poets of to-day still
find something new to say and new ways to say it. So the
prosaic, practical scientists are saying something very new
abcut three of the oldest subjects of human thought, weather,
farming and mathematics. The weather is the oldest of them
all as a basis of observation and remark; the practise of agri-
culture began early in the history of civilization, and the de-
velopment of mathematics began soon after, notably among the
Egyptians, and was carried to a high degree of excellence in
some lines by the Greeks. Yet each of these is the subject of
an extremely new and modern science. Meteorology, the science
of the weather, is one of the newest of the sciences, and is yet
in its infancy. Its beginnings date back to some observations
made by Benjamin Franklin, but its application began a century
later, just after the Civil War. Something of the growth of the
modern science of agriculture, principally due to the work of
the agricultural experiment stations, is known to all. In the
old science of mathematics new theorems, processes and devices
are constantly being developed. But now appears a group of
men with an original idea. Knowing something of the modern
aspects of each of these. sciences, they are combining them and
using the refined and elegant processes of mathematical statis-
tics to determine the effect of various kinds of weather upon the
VOL. XI.—23.

354 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

crops in their different stages of development, to ascertain the
farmer’s risk from unfavorable weather, and to find definite
relations between weather happenings in different parts of the
globe.

The mathematical processes are due largely to Professor
Kar] Pearson, of England, who has applied them primarily in
the fields of biology and anthropology. In this country, the
leader in the application of these methods to the problem of
determining the influence of the weather on the crops is Pro-
fessor J. Warren Smith, of the United States Weather Bureau,
whose work in this line began in Ohio several years ago. For
example, he has shown that the yield of corn in Ohio is very
largely dependent upon the amount of rain in June, July and
August. When the July rainfall is less than three inches, the
average yield is 30 bushels per acre, when it is five inches or
more, the yield is 38 bushels; which means that these two inches
of rain have added 27,300,000 bushels to the corn crop of this
State, worth at 1919 prices about $35,000,000. When the July
rainfall is three and a quarter inches, the yield is 15,000,000
bushels greater than when it falls short of this amount by half
an inch. Each quarter of an inch increase between the totals
of two and four inches means an added value of about $7,800,-
000. Taking the four great corn-growing states of Indiana,
Illinois, Iowa and Missouri, the addition of half an inch to a
total of two and three quarters inches adds ten bushels per acre
to the yield on the average. This thin layer of water is worth
at present prices about $18 an acre, or a total for these four
states of the Corn Belt of the significant sum of $4,000,000,000.
Truly, if corn is king in this region, water is the power behind
the throne.

But not content with this victory, the agricultural meteor-
ologist advances to the next line of defense with the relentless
weapons of statistical analysis, the machine guns of mathe-
matics, and finds that the most important twenty-day period in
Ohio is from July 21 to August 10; and finally goes over the
top and locates the critical period in the first ten days of August.
This is the time when the half inch or the quarter inch of rain
is of the most value, and when you must have it if you are to
get a big crop of corn. And this is the period immediately fol-
lowing the blossoming of the corn. Now, this idea of “critical
periods” is new, the idea being that there are certain short
periods of time in the growth of any crop during which its
future prospects are largely determined, “a tide which, taken
at the flood, leads on to fortune.’”’ In short, favorable weather
at these times will produce a good crop and unfavorable weather

MATHEMATICIAN, FARMER AND WEATHER 359

a poor one. In some crops this is a single short period; in some
temperature is the most important, in others it is rainfall or
sunshine.

Food is brought to the plant by the moisture in the soil and
is converted into vegetable tissue by heat and by the direct
action of the sun’s rays. For every species of plant there are
certain best temperature and moisture values, varying at dif-
ferent periods of growth. If these best values occur at the criti-
cal periods, excellent crops are certain, barring accidents. And
here we arrive at a practical application; the climate of most
places in the United States is pretty well known and completely
exhibited in published tables. When tables of the critical
periods of plant growth, together with the meteorological fac-
tors, whether temperature, rainfall or sunshine, most affecting
growth at these times, likewise become available, we shall have
but to compare the two sets of tables to determine whether a
specific crop is climatically well adapted to a particular district.
Further, there are ways of advancing or retarding, within cer-
tain limits, the time of occurrence of the critical periods, thus
bringing them into the time when favorable weather is more
likely to occur. This may be done by the use of an earlier or
later variety, by varying the time of seeding, by cultivation, or
by the use of fertilizers. Moreover, by cultivation, a quarter
or even a half inch of moisture may be conserved, if the farmer
knows just when it is most important to conserve it. If these
methods fail, and the weather is still frequently unfavorable at
critical periods, it will be necessary to substitute some other
crop. In some cases these important periods are far enough
ahead of harvest to enable increased attention to be given to
other crops in the same year. For instance, the rainfall of May
is the most important factor in the hay crop in most of the
northern United States. If at the end of May the rainfall has
been light, other forage crops may be planted to take the place
of hay. The application of all this to farming under irrigation
is obvious. In our arid and semi-arid west, the sun may be
depended upon to supply an abundance of energy, and if just the
right amount of water is applied at the right time, remarkable
crops result. Hence the importance of knowing the right time.

I have referred principally to Professor Smith’s study of the
effect of the weather on the yield of corn in Ohio, but many
other interesting results have been obtained, both by him and
others, and both in this country and in Europe. Take wheat
for example, one of the oldest and probably the most important
of cultivated crops. In the growing of winter wheat, which is

356 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

exposed to all sorts of weather for nine months, through fall,
winter, spring and summer, the weather of three or four ten-
day periods in May and June is found to influence the crop to
a much greater extent than that of all the rest of the time com-
bined. These are the critical periods in the development of
winter wheat, and they are associated with certain definite
stages in the growth of the wheat plant. When the wheat is
“jointing,” that is, growing rapidly in height, cool weather is
demanded, but later, while the heads are filling, it must be
warm, and in between these periods, during the ten-days when
the “boot” from which the head emerges is forming, dry
weather is necessary for the best growth. There is indication
also that cool weather is advantageous while the wheat is blos-
soming, and warm while it is ripening. In addition, a weight
of evidence is accumulating that a heavy March snowfall is
decidedly detrimental, contrary to the prevailing popular
opinion.

In the great spring wheat centers of North and South
Dakota, it has been shown that the yield depends largely on the
rainfall of May and June and the temperature of June, but no
shorter critical periods have as yet been established. To obtain
a large crop, the rainfall of May and June should be above the
average and June should be cooler than the average. In North
Dakota, which is the drier and cooler of the two states, a good
rainfall is more important than cool weather, but in South
Dakota temperature is in a great measure the determining fac-
tor, while in the neighboring State of Minnesota, variations in
either temperature or precipitation during these months have
little effect on the yield. No general rules for the entire country
can be made, but each section must be studied with reference
to its normal climate.

Consider, as another example, that staple of our dinner
tables, the potato. A cool and wet July makes the potato crop
in the Mississippi Valley. Cool weather is desirable all summer
and wet weather during June, July and August, but July is the
most important month and the first ten days of July the most
important short period. This is the ten days following blossom-
ing. If it is cool during this time with a good supply of
moisture, and in addition the moisture supply has been fairly
good during the previous two or three weeks, the prospects for
a large crop of potatoes are excellent. If these conditions have
not obtained, the yield will be small. If the water supply can be
controlled by irrrigation, it is of the greatest importance that
it be sufficient at this period.

MATHEMATICIAN, FARMER AND WEATHER 307

In the great Cotton Exchange in New York and in the pri-
mary cotton markets of the South the price of cotton has always
fluctuated from day to day during the growing season with the
daily reports of weather conditions in the Cotton Belt, where
the world’s supply of this staple is largely produced. But it has
fluctuated erratically and without any solid knowledge of the
exact amount of influence the weather may have upon the yield.
Recently, however, a well-known American economist and sta-
tistician has shown that he can predict the total yield with
remarkable accuracy by mathematical analysis from a knowl-
edge of the average weather conditions from May to August,
an accuracy greater than that of the estimates based on the
condition figures of the Government crop reports. The favor-
able weather conditions differ somewhat in the different sec-
tions of the Cotton Belt, extending from Texas to South Caro-
lina, but the most important requirements are that May shall
be dry, June both warm and dry, and August cool and wet, a
cool and wet August being of most importance. Sitting in his
New York office, without even having seen a cotton plant grow-
ing and without receiving any reports as to the progress of the
crop, the master of the newer statistics can at the end of August
insert these weather values in his formula and tell how much
cotton will be ginned in the South during the following autumn
and winter. Such, in the hands of experts, is the magic in those
bugbears of our school days, arithmetic and algebra!

There is another phase of weather, not directly connected
with crop yields, towards which the powerful weapons of the
mathematician have been directed. This may be called the ap-
plication of frequency curves to climatic phenomena. A fre-
quency curve offers a systematic method of examining the varia-
tions in a series of events, and, as applied to weather and cli-
mate, may be used to determine how often the summers will be
too hot or too dry for a particular crop, or the winters too cold,
or the growing season too short. The simple average, as usually
given in climatic tables, is not sufficient. We must know how
the individual years arrange themselves around the average.
For, though these climatic events occur according to the laws
of chance, they do not all follow the simple law by which, if
you flip a coin a large number of times, heads and tails will ap-
pear with equal frequency. On the contrary, some of these
happenings form “skew” curves; the rainfall, for example. In
parts of the semiarid west an annual precipitation of twelve
inches is considered sufficient for the growing of dry land
grains, but that average will probably be made up of a few

308 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

years with much more than twelve inches and many years with
amounts somewhat less than twelve. Though twelve is the
average, it is not the most probable amount, and falls of less
than twelve are more likely to occur than those of more than
twelve. In such cases the distribution of events about the
average is unsymmetrical, askew, and the average does not
mean much, does not tell us what we want to know.

Average value

Inches 13 14

SKEW FREQUENCY CURVE SHOWING DISTRIBUTION OF ANNUAL PRECIPITATION AT
CORINND, UTAH. Average value, 12.5 inches; most frequent value, 11.5 inches.

requent value

Average and most

bays 110 20 130 146 156 166 176 186 196 206

SYMMETRICAL FREQUENCY CURVE SHOWING VARIATION IN LENGTH OF GROWING SHASON
AT DENVER, COLORADO. Average and most frequent values coincide in 156 days.

The farmer or buyer wants to know not only what the aver-
age amount is, but how often in the course of ten or fifty years
the amount will fall so far short of the average as to be entirely
inadequate. This the makers of the frequency curve can tell
him much more accurately than he could do for himself by
simply counting the number of times it has been insufficient in
the past ten or fifty years. In the northern portion of the
orange-growing section of Florida, once in a good many years
the trees are killed or badly frozen back by a winter cold wave.
To know how often this is liable to occur is of prime impor-
tance in fixing the value of the land for orange-growing pur-
poses. Similarly, in peach-growing sections, farther north,
peach trees or the buds for next year’s crop are subject to
winter killing, and in nearly all fruit-growing sections the crops
are liable to injury by late spring frosts. In early vegetable
farming, the farmer frequently wants to take the risk of having
his crops killed once in five or ten years in order to be in the
market early in the other years. Is it better for him to go it

MATHEMATICIAN, FARMER AND WEATHER 359

blindly, depending on his own impression of the proper date of
planting, or to rely on the theoretical determination of the risk,
which in 73 per cent. of the cases will lead to no unexpected
losses, and in 94 per cent. to not more than one such loss in a
period of twenty to thirty years?

In such cases as these the object is to determine the average —
interval between the occurrence of certain unfavorable condi-
tions, such as insufficient rain, late spring frosts, early autumn
frosts and other adverse events. This is the question that is
answered by these curves, for by a little additional calculation
the “frequency” curve becomes an “ average interval” curve.
By the use of these devices of the mathematician, it becomes
possible from the examination of a limited number of observa-
tions to obtain a reasonable estimate of events as they will occur
in an unlimited series of observations and hence to predict what
is going to happen on the average in the next 20 or 100 or 1,000
years. Of course, it is not possible to tell by these means, nor
by any others now known, just when such unfavorable events
will happen. They may occur in two successive years and not
again for 20 years. But, though they appear to happen for-
tuitously, in the long run they will occur the number of times
indicated by the curve, and it is the performance of the land
and the weather in the long run that determines values, though
to the individual farmer the events of a few specific years may
be of first importance.

The application of the statistical method to this individual
phase of the problem, in what has been called ‘‘ weather insur-
ance,” offers a legitimate opportunity for an extension of the
field covered by insurance companies. We now have marine in-
surance, which includes perils of the sea due to storms, also
hail and tornado insurance in certain parts of the country, but
the idea may be greatly extended. Basing the work upon the
methods I have described and upon the accurate climatological
data collected by the Weather Bureau, there should be a sta-
tistical determination of the farmers’ many risks from unfavor-
able weather conditions. Then the proper charge against the
weather hazard can be made, and unseasonable and unusual
weather will cease to be a calamity to the individual, just as the
financial losses by fire and death are minimized in fire and life
insurance, and the burden which is at present carried by indi-
vidual losses and by depreciation of land values will be more
widely distributed.

With such insurance well established it will be applicable
in a wider field than the distribution of the individual risk. The

360 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

insurance rate quoted on a farm will give the purchaser valu-
able information. The country banker and storekeeper, who
frequently carry the farmer through bad years, will be able to
insure themselves against a great drain upon their resources in
any one year. Instead of the haphazard, unbusinesslike method
of taking unknown chances, which characterizes much of the
present practice, the weather becomes a determinate risk in
farming, a risk that can be stated more easily and more accu-
rately than most other business risks.

Turning now from the numerous climatic problems of the
agriculturist to those even more extensive fields of investiga-
tion, the physics of the atmosphere as a whole and the interre-
lations of its various parts, we find that the mathematical
weather men have brought to light another series of interesting
and curious facts. When an English scientist announces that
it will be warm in Cairo, Egypt, to-morrow, since it was cold
in London to-day, and that the rainfall will be unusually heavy
in England this winter, since it was unusually light in Cuba
last summer; when another says that a light rainfall in Chile
during the period from May to August will be followed during
July to October by more than ordinary floods on the Nile; when
a Japanese mathematician says that the rice crop in northern
Japan will be large this fall, since the barometer was unusually
high last spring over China; when the scientists begin making
such long range and curiously disconnected forecasts as these,
it would seem that they are beginning to understand something
of how this complicated atmosphere of ours works. As a matter
of fact, they are conservative, and do not make any such fore-
casts for individual periods, but they have shown that on the
average and to a great extent such relations do hold.

Many such correspondences between weather happenings in
widely separated parts of the world have been shown. The
rainfall of the central United States shows a direct correspond-
ence to that of central South America, and both show an inverse
relation to the rainfall of Australia. A forecast of the tempera-
ture at Berlin in March and April is possible at the end of De-
cember from the temperature at Christiania, Norway. When
the April temperature at Irkutsk, Siberia, is higher than the
normal, we may expect with a high degree of probability that
the temperature at San Francisco in the following July will be
abnormally low, and conversely. The higher the barometric
pressure in the Argentine and Chile during March and April the
greater will be the monsoon rainfall of India the following July
and August. Florida and southern California refuse to pull

MATHEMATICIAN, FARMER AND WEATHER 361

together in the matter of weather. Especially in the winter
months, when one is warmer than normal, the other insists upon
being cooler. Starting with San Diego as a basis of comparison
and moving east and north, we find that the temperatures show
a decreasing correspondence to those at San Diego, until, in the
Mississippi Valley, the relation changes from positive to nega-
tive, and the eastern part of the country generally has tempera-
ture conditions opposite to those in southern California, culmi-
nating at Jacksonville, Florida, in a high degree of contrariness.
Thus, it is fortunate for the orange market that freezes are not
likely to occur in Florida and California in the same winter.

Such are some of the curious but apparently unimportant
facts which have been revealed by the application of these novel
methods of investigation to the study of climatic data. They
are evidence that our entire atmosphere functions more or less
as a unit, and though some of the results may seem at first sight
to be of little moment, they promise in the end to prove of the
greatest value. Their significance lies in the fact that they are
leading toward an understanding of those great motions and
shiftings of the atmosphere which cause our changeful weather,
and make one winter to differ from another winter in severity
as one summer differeth from another summer in torridity. A
thorough understanding of these movements should, in time,
lead to the solution of that fascinating problem of the climatic
forecast, now the realm of charlatans, but the dream of real
scientists, which aims at predicting the general character of a
season months in advance. When that time comes, the mys-
teries of the weather largely will have vanished, and the
meteorologist may say with the Wise Man in Yeats’s play, “I
have made formations of battle with Arithmetic that have put
the hosts of heaven to the rout.”

362 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ANCIENT BACTERIA AND THE BEGINNINGS
OF DISEASE

By Professor ROY L. MOODIE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

ERMS are among the oldest inhabitants of the earth. It
(+ is even suggested that while the earth was still forming
bacteria were carried from distant planets on meteorites and
thus initiated life on the earth. However this may be, bacteria-
are found in the oldest fossil-bearing rocks of North America,
having been discovered by Dr. Charles Walcott in the central
portion of Montana in association with fossil algx, in the
substance of which the bacteria were fossilized. Far from be-
ing disease-producing these earliest types of bacteria were
doubtless of the kind which assist in withdrawing calcium from
the sea water. They were rock builders. An analogous form
exists in the Atlantic Ocean at the present day, and is especially
active around the West Indies in building up the coral reefs.

The form of these most ancient germs is so similar to that
of recent bacteria that they are called Micrococcus, a bacterial
form which is especially common to-day. Considerable com-
ment has been aroused as to the possibility of such delicate
organisms as bacteria being capable of preservation in a fossil-
ized condition. This is, however, pretty definitely settled by
investigations in other lines. Fossil brains, fossil flowers,
fossil blood and fossil muscle are known to be so well preserved
that there is permitted an examination of the minute structure
of the tissues. Renault, too, has described a great number of
bacteria in the coal of France so no doubt exists longer as to
the structures seen being bacteria.

Disease, however, did not exist with the most ancient bac-
teria. They were harmless, as are most of the present-day
bacteria. Whether bacterial organisms were instrumental in
effecting the origin of disease we do not know. This is a wide
field of study which has not yet been explored. In a later geo-
logical period bacteria are found in partially decayed bone,
together with thread mould and other types of fungi. This
condition, however, can not be regarded as disease, but decay in
dead material. The earliest animals were free from disease,
although they were subject to injuries incident to the life of any

ANCIENT BACTERIA 363

creature. The larger attacked the smaller then as now. In-
fection of the injured part did not take place in the early
periods of animal life, and it is only after the great Coal Period
that infected wounds are found.

The Coal Period witnessed the earliest widespread condi-
tion of bacteria and fungi, and possibly witnessed the begin-
ning of disease, although there had been previously a mild form
of pathology due to the action of parasites. The first diseased
conditions preserved are, of course, not the earliest manifesta-
tion of disease, since disease is doubtless the result of long ages
of struggle between the two contending forces of nature. The
early animals were so highly immune to attack by bacterial
organisms that it was only after the races of animals began to
grow weaker through age that disease was able to make any
headway. ne

It is idle to attempt to place a beginning of any limited time
during which disease began. Disease was not present in the
earliest times of the earth’s history and it did not become very
active until the present age of the earth had been attained by
nearly three quarters of its duration. That is, disease has
only been active during the last one quarter of the earth’s his-
tory, so far as animals and plants are concerned. The inci-
dence of maladies began slowly, was introduced gradually, and
has been an important factor only within relatively recent
times. It was a minor and unimportant factor for millions of
years.

The action of early parasites on the shells of ancient animals
are our oldest evidences of disease. The action of these organ-
isms resulted in the formation of the oldest tumors. Diseased
conditions of a very interesting type were caused in the early
history of animal life by poisoning of the waters in which the
animals lived. This resulted in a thickening of the shell, a
twisting of the spirals of snails, or a diminution in size of some
forms, certain of the depauperized individuals being only one
twentieth their normal size.

The origin and development of disease may be traced to a
large extent from the evidences of pathology found on the fossil
bones of the ancient races of man and extinct animals, as well
as from the associations of the earliest animals. That early
man may have acquired some of his diseases from the coexisting
animals is evident from the fact that the men of the stone ages,
the cave bears, and other cave-inhabiting animals were often
afflicted with the same maladies, as may be seen from the
diseased appearance of their bones.

364 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It would thus seem that the relation between disease in
ancient times and the extinction of great groups of animals like
the dinosaurs, was a matter of minor importance. The indica-
tions of disease so far seen on ancient bones are the results of
accidents, or minor constitutional disturbances which did not
endanger the life of the race and seldom that of the individual.
The evidence, to be sure, is scanty, being confined to that seen
on the hard parts of ancient animals. But on a similar basis
is erected our present extensive knowledge of the evolution of
animals in past time. Many of the epidemic diseases of to-day
which are so fatal to life leave no traces on the bones. It may
have been so in past times, to a great extent.

The beginnings of disease are thus seen to»be lost in an
immense obscurity of time during which the evil forces of
nature were battling with the good for supremacy. Immunity
doubtless was early established, and strongly entrenched. So
firmly guarded were the primitive animals of the first ages of
the earth that no disturbing influences entered into their exist-
ence. Only when racial old age, and the introduction of other
antagonistic influences disturbed this natural immunity did
animals see the new factor of disease enter into their lives.
Early land animals doubtless lived long lives of placid content-
ment undisturbed by fear of infection either from within or
without. Disease was in its very beginnings and with the land
animals spread more and more over the face of the earth as
time passed on in a mighty succession of geological ages.

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. 365

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F.

By Dr. ROBERT T. HANCE
ZOOLOGICAL LABORATORY, UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA

HE sudden halt in the war left approximately two million
aL Americans stranded in Europe with the chief object of
their exile and with the stimulus and the real need for work
gone. It was quite obvious, whatever the temporary belief of
those prevented from returning, that it would take some time to
reverse the fdncentrated efforts to build up a mighty force in
France and return the individuals to their homes. Marking
time With no point in view would shortly bring discontent and
disorder.

The gathering together of the large group of young men
from the entire country and their subsequent examination had
shown an almost unbelievable lack of uniform or satisfactory
education. Indeed in far too many cases schooling had never
been a factor in the individuals’ lives. Clearly such conditions
are not to the advantage of the nation. It was then with the
intention of keeping the men engaged in work of the greatest
interest not only to the nation but to themselves that the Army
Educational system of the American Expeditionary Force was
started. The opening paragraph of the orders (G. H. Q., A. E.
F., G. O. No. 30) authorizing the opening and equipping of these
schools expresses the view of the responsible officers.

1. The commander in chief invites the attention of organization com-
manders and of all officers in the American Expeditionary Forces to the
importance of national education. The citizen army must return to the
United States prepared to take an active and intelligent part in the future
progress of our country. Educational and occupational training should
therefore be provided to meet the needs of the members of the American
Expeditionary Force in order that they may be better equipped for their
future responsibilities.

Beyond the immediate occupation of the men in useful work the
directors had in mind an experiment in national education the
results of which might be of value in developing a similar plan
in this country.

All grades of education were provided from primary to the
highest type of academic teaching. It is with the latter that
the present paper will chiefly deal. French and British uni-

366 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

versities opened their halls to Americans (chiefly college gradu-
ates) whose training fitted them for the work given but the
greater need was for the continuation of the training of those
soldiers whose higher professional education had been inter-
rupted by the war. To meet this need the American E. F. Uni-
versity was founded at Beaune, Cote D’Or, France, a quite
charming town whose inhabitants did much to make the sojourn
of the Americans a thing to be remembered.

The near-by forest-covered hills and vineyards made (when
the rains stopped) an exceedingly picturesque background or
campus and possibilities of beautiful walks were well realized.
It is the purpose of the following article to attempt to picture
the development of an American educational institution of col-
legiate rank on foreign soil with a staff and equipment drawn
almost exclusively from the army. This can be done most satis-
factorily by considering the conditions met chiefly by the de-
partment with which the writer was connected and with which
naturally he was most familiar, namely, the department of zool-
ogy. Beaune had been selected as the site for the university
because of the location just without the town limits of an Amer-
ican Hospital Center which had been built in anticipation of
the great drive which the Armistice fortunately prevented.

Those who arrived in February shortly after the first group
had taken up their duties at Beaune found the situation far
from promising. The steady rains, the poorly developed and
muddy roads through the camp and the apparent general lack of
preparedness were sufficient to dampen any one’s enthusiasm.
The complaints of many who had been ordered to teach when
expecting orders home were couched in terms more generally
used in the American Expeditionary Force than in America.
Some were disgusted and some insulted by the conditions and
state in which they found themselves. They didn’t believe that
much could result from Army education. One officer arrived
seething after having been asked by telephone if he would come
and had understood that the invitation was to give a course of
lectures at the Sorbonne. The latter setting rather pleased his
fancy and would look well in print at home and the collapse
following the receipt of orders and the realization that his Iec-
tures must be presented far from Paris did not tend to sweeten
his temper. It was frequently postulated and with some reason
that the soldier student who came would be actuated more by
the relief from the tedium of drill than the opportunity offered
for education and that consequently the teachers would be wast-
ing their time.

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. 367

Despite pessimism operations moved ahead with remarkable
speed. The draughting rooms were busy day and night draw-
ing and blue printing plans for the subdivision of the buildings
according to the desires of the departmental heads, the engineers
were carrying out the work rapidly and well (the partitions
being of heavy cardboard), labor gangs were turning the roads
into something worthy of the name and the faculty was thresh-
ing out policy, organization, courses, ordering books and all the
rest of the academic detail. Literally a complete university
was to be raised from the mud and this inahurry. Everything
from buildings to equipment had to be developed in the minimum
time and instructors had to be found somewhere in the Ameri-
ean Expeditionary Force. In the interesting way in which in
Army affairs the right men for certain places gradually come
along a rather well balanced teaching staff was soon assembled.
Illustrative of the training and experience of the faculty in gen-
eral was the group that finally gathered together to teach
zoology.

A. H. Bayer, B.S. (Michigan Agricultural College), private, assistant
in zoology in the American E. F. University.

Wendell Lowell Bevan, B.S. (Agricultural College of Colorado), captain
Field Artillery, instructor in the Agricultural College of Colorado and
instructor in entomology in the American E. F. University.

Robert T. Hance, M.A., Ph.D. (University of Pennsylvania), first lieuten-
ant Sanitary Corps, assistant in zoology in the University of Pennsyl-
vania and chairman of the Department of Zoology and instructor in
genetics and microscopical technique in the American E. F. University.

Hovey Jordan, M.S. (Harvard) first lieutenant infantry, Austin fellow
Harvard Graduate School. Instructor in histology and embryology in
the American E. F. University.

Homer O. Moser, B.A. (Bluffton College, Ohio), sergeant, Medical Corps,
instructor in science and mathematics in the Arlington High School,
Illinois and assistant in zoology in the American E. F. University.

Richard A. Muttkowski, Ph.D. (University of Wisconsin), corporal signal
corps, Instructor in zoology in the Kansas State Agricultural College
and instructor in elementary zoology and comparative anatomy in the
American E. F. University.

Don C. Simkins, B.S. (Denison University), private first class, instructor
in science in Middletown, Ohio, and assistant in zoology in the American
E. F. University.

These men had largely been ordered to Beaune on the
strength of the record of their previous occupation indicated on
their qualification cards and made an interestingly well balanced
group in regard to their zoological interests. Fortunately these
men believed from the start in the practicability of the work in
which they were engaged which aided greatly in speeding up the
progress of development. It was interesting to note the change

368 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

in attitude that many of the early pessimists underwent as the
apparent impossibilities commenced to turn into realities.

Few departments had any conception as to the desirable
courses to offer and no idea as to the number of students to
plan for. In zoology the courses finally agreed upon were, ele-
mentary zoology, economic zoology (this course was never
given), microscopical technique, advanced zoology (in which it
was planned to arrange work to meet the needs of advanced
students), genetics, agricultural entomology, histology and em-
bryology. All work, except in the last two subjects, was
planned on the five hour per week basis the laboratory periods
being of two hours duration. It was desired as far as equip-
ment and supplies were available to have the courses compare
favorably with similar ones in the best American institutions
and in general, I believe, this hope was realized. Histology and
embryology were probably quite unsatisfactory to their in-
structor owing to the frequent shifting of the students by the
college of medicine from which the courses drew most of their
members. Had the life of the university lasted for another
term of three or four months it is safe to say that all courses
could have been exceedingly satisfactorily presented.

The department of zoology was fortunate in being able to
find much necessary equipment on the grounds in the supply
depot of the hospital center. This sufficed until the larger order
from the main supply depot arrived about the middle of the
term. It is not an exaggeration to claim that when the latter
was unpacked the department was equipped as are few zoolog-
ical laboratories in American universities. The photographs of
stock room and laboratories give some evidence of this. All
supplies were drawn from supply depots of the United States
Medical Corps and were not specially purchased for the univer-
sity. Among other instruments we had large numbers of scal-
pels and scissors of various sizes (sufficient to equip over two
hundred students at one time), about one hundred and twenty
microscopes fitted with oil immersion lenses and mechanical
stages (machines worth about one hundred and forty dollars
apiece to-day), seventeen new microtomes, two fine balances
and so on through a long list of articles.

To expedite development members of the staff manufactured
many things needed ranging from blackboards to erasers, plat-
forms and reading stands. Heavy oak tables were supplied
by the quartermaster and made excellent laboratory benches.
Thousands of substantial folding chairs were available. Little
trouble was experienced in collecting dissecting material.

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. 369

Fic. 1. THE ABOVE PICTURE ILLUSTRATES THE TYPE OF ONB-STORY CONCRETD
BUILDING WHICH HOUSED THE VARIOUS DEPARTMENTS OF THE AMERICAN E. F. UNI-
VERSITY AT BEAUNE, Coth D'OR, FRANCE. In the above building the Departments of
Botany, Psychology and Zoology were located. These structures were approximately
forty feet wide by one hundred and sixty feet long.

Fic. 2. A CLOSE VIPW OF THE FRONT OF THE ZOOLOGICAL LABORATORY WITH AQUARIA
AND CAGES CONTAINING THE FAUNA OF THE REGION,

VOL. X1.—24.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ww)
~]

Fic. 3. THE INTERIOR OF THE BUILDING SHOWN IN FIG. 1 BEFORE SUBDIVISION INTO

ROOMS.

Fic. 4. THE WALLS OF THE HALL OF THEE ZOOLOGICAL LABORATORY WERE COVERED
WITH CHARTS DRAWN BY THE STUDENTS.

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. dil

Within the confines of the camp was a large shallow pond in
which great numbers of toads were spawning. It was a matter
of but a couple of hours work at night to collect several hundred.
Frogs were few and we did not catch more than a half dozen
during our stay. The early spring with its heavy rains brought
an abundant supply of big earthworms to the surface of the
earth. A little later moles and mole crickets appeared in con-
siderable numbers and were readily caught. Carp and pigeons
could be bought in the game store in Beaune and there are
probably few places in the world where a supply of cats and
dogs are not available. Several hedgehogs were captured in

Apriland May. The fauna was so interesting that shelves were
put in front of the laboratory building and cages and aquaria
were set up to hold the various animals brought in. Descrip-
tions in French and English of the habits of the various forms
were attached to the exhibits and this little zoo had a constant
stream of visitors from early morning until late at night when
I have seen would-be spectators striking matches to see what
the “exhibits” were doing or to determine whether the toad
and the snake still lived separately. It might be added to the
eredit of the snake that he at last got into the spirit of the
affair and lived up to expectations. For several days thereafter
the snake showed a considerable swelling in the middle of his

O12 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

body suggesting the biological analogy that if base metals can
not be transmuted into gold at least amphibians can be converted
into reptiles.

A considerable number of excellent charts were made by
certain students who preferred to put in the hour a day re-
quired in some service for the university in this manner. Since
text-books in sufficient number for class use never arrived the
charts were excellent teaching aids. The lack of class texts
was not a serious handicap and the library was able to provide
us with a number of well-known and valuable reference works
which the department ordered earlier in the term.

Fie. 6. A PRIVATE. LABORATORY.

The largest number of students handled in the various
courses was about two hundred and twenty-five, though toward
the end the number was reduced to about one half through the
departure of the men to join their Divisions which were return-
ing to the States. It was the consensus of the instructors’ opin-
ions that though many of the students may have come to loaf
they remained to work and that they had seldom had more
interested audiences. Special lectures on the broader aspects
of zoology were given in the evenings by members of the staff
and attendance was voluntary and good. Though the interest
and apparent caliber of the students were really high the results
of the final examinations were disappointing. This it was be-
lieved might be due to any one or any combination of following

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. 319

Fic. 7. A CORNER OF THE STOCK ROOM AFFORDING SOME CONCEPTION OF THE
QUANTITY OF SUPPLIES ON HAND.

Fic 8. THE TOOL ROOM,

374 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

factors: the men were too recently from the unsettling condi-
tions of war and army life to be able to take up serious and
systematic study; that the little time or opportunity for even-
ing work was possible because of the barrack living conditions
and in some cases to more or less unnecessary evening inspec-
tions by certain group commanders and, lastly, the weather
toward the close of the term was so delightful and such a wel-
come contrast to what it had been for about six months that
every one wanted to be out of doors as long as possible.

Bam )q)404) 4
ood

Fic. 9. THE LABORATORY OF ELEMENTARY ZOOLOGY.

A very broad policy was formulated by the university of
permitting forty-eight hour week-end passes of which all could
avail themselves for trips to places of interest. To nearby
towns truck or automobile transportation was available for
special trips. The class in elementary zoology made one such
trip in trucks of about eighty or ninety kilometers to Dole, the
birthplace of Pasteur. The classes in botany were able to
journey into the French Alps on a collecting expedition.

It is not to be inferred though that there were not some
whose work was as consistent and as good as it would have been
in America. . At least one individual found the subject (zool-
ogy) sufficiently fascinating to signify his intention of entering
the field permanently when he returned to the United States.
Others worked outside of class hours in order that they might

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. Ove

Fig 10. THE LABORATORY OF HISTOLOGY AND EMBRYOLOGY.

ides) salale THE LABORATORY OF COMPARATIVE ANATOMY AND MUICROSCOPICAL

TECHNIQUE. The crates to the left of the picture contain unpacked equipment,
chiefly microscopes.

SCIENCE.

THE FACULTY OF THE COLLEGH OF

12,

Via.

ZOOLOGY IN THE A. E. F. O77

get some experience in the use of instruments and methods
that they thought were going to be of value to them in the work
they intended carrying on at home. If these few were really
reached it is fair to conclude that the brief operation of an
American University in France demonstrated its practicability
since it is but a small group that we are able actually to influ-
ence in normal teaching.

Fie. 13. TRUCKS CONTAINING ZOOLOGY STUDENTS ON THE WAY TO DOLE, THE BIRTH-
PLACH OF PASTEUR.

That the experiment was a success I think it safe to assert.
That the students at large gained in a knowledge of the general
if not always of the detailed content of the various fields of
study was obvious and such being the case they could the more
readily determine their reactions to these subjects and whether
a pursuance of them in America would be congenial. More
than this could scarcely be accomplished in the brief time avail-
able and if this was consummated the attempt at higher educa-
tion in connection with the Army in France was, as claimed
above, successful.

To the instructors, both commissioned and non-commis-
sioned men, the getting back into educational surroundings and
into what developed into a very fair academic atmosphere with
a minimum of the military was a very delightful and a not soon
to be forgotten experience. The almost complete absence of

378 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

that type of small-town, hopelessly provincial person who did
so much to hurt the American reputation for fair play by refus-
ing to admit any virtue to any foreign custom, people or scene
was most cheering. Many of us had been commencing to
wonder whether the vaunted broadmindedness was not a brain
child of imaginative Americans. Fortunately the congregation
of several hundred representative educated men completely dis-
pelled this idea.

For the reasons indicated the writer considers the attempt
to operate an American Army University in France as generally
successful and a great credit not only to those leaders who built
the institution but also to the American spirit of accomplishing
what it starts out to do. This view recognizes the certain in-
herent difficulties of uniting educational work with military
life and considers the difficulties to have been counteracted
to a considerable degree by the uniqueness of the situation.
Whether in a national scheme of militarized education the ad-
vantages will continue to outbalance the disadvantages is largely
a matter of personal opinion and a subject too lengthy to permit
of discussion here. Certainly though, we need a national and a
standardized or uniform system of education.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

379

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION
AT CARDIFF

THE British Association for the
Advancement of Science held its
first meeting in York in 1831. The
meetings were adjourned for two
years during the war and the an-
nual meeting at Cardiff was conse-
quently the eighty-eighth. During

| meeting.

this long period the association has |

adequately forwarded its objects
which are thus defined: “‘ To give a
stronger impulse and a more sys-
tematic direction to scientific in-
quiry, to promote the intercourse of

ferent parts of the British Empire,
with one another and with foreign
philosophers, to obtain a more gen-
eral attention to the objects of Sci-
ence, and a removal of any disad-

vantages of a public kind which)

impede its progress.”

The program at Cardiff main-
tained the high standards of the as-
sociation, more especially in the ad-
dresses of the presiding officers and
in the general discussions. The
value of these addresses is shown by
the extracts which the Monthly is
able to print in its present issue,
which give perhaps the best avail-
able statement of the progress and
problems in the different sciences.
The excellent organization of the
work of the association is witnessed
by the fact that through the cour-
tesy of the speakers and the officers
of the association we were able to
obtain copies of the addresses in ad-
vance of their delivery.

There were 1,378 members pres-
ent at Cardiff which is less than
was usual before the war. Those
in attendance consist largely of
lecal associates who join for the

uation the

Their fees provide a sum
in the neighborhood of a thousand
pounds which is annually appro-
priated to the committees of the as-
sociation for the promotion of re-
search, and they also supply audi-
ences for the addresses and the
meetings of more general interest
and take part in the entertainment
of the visiting scientific men. Owing
doubtless to the different social sit-
American Association
has never been equally successful
in enlisting the support of the peo-
ple in the city in which it meets

those who cultivate Science in dif- #nd it seems that changing condi-

tions make it more and more diffi-

l'eult for the British Association to

do so. Thus a correspondent writes
from Cardiff that it is “rather dis-
appointing to find the membership
no greater. What is more disap-
pointing still is that the principal
reason for this is the apathy of local
people of the educated classes to the
presence of the association. The
plain fact remains that it is the ex-
ception to find any one who has
even heard of the Association.”

The influence of the British Asso-
ciation in bringing scientific work
to the attention of the country
through the press seems also to be
less than formerly and to be ap-
proaching the conditions in _ this
country. In past years the London
Times used to devote one to three of
its large pages to reporting the daily
programs whereas the space allotted
has now shrunk to part of a page
and there is a tendency to report the
papers on social and educational
subjects rather than the results of
research in the natural and exact
sciences.

The meetings of the British Asso-

WY
Ly,

PROFESSOR WILLIAM ABBOTT HERDMAN

President of the British Association and Professor of Oceanography in the Univer-
sity of Liverpool. The drawing of the Portrait has been kindly supplied by the
Editor of the Evening Transcript.

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

ciation correspond more nearly to
those of the American Association
prior to the past twenty years. Our
association then held its meetings in
the summer, and excursions and en-
tertainments were emphasized, which
led to a larger attendance of ama-
teurs and perhaps to more local inter-
est. The American Association has
now become primarily an association
of societies rather than of individu-
als. No other country holds meetings

at which so many scientific men are

in attendance or at which the special

extensive. It may, however, be that
the more technical organization of
the meetings has led to giving less
attention to the work of bringing
scientific research and its impor-

tance for the nation to the attention suggestion is received with favor by

In a democracy

of a wider public.
science must depend on a wide ap-
peal for its support and for recruits.
The situation in England indicates
the increasing difficulties as science
becomes more highly specialized and
scientific men become more com-
pletely absorbed in their special
work. It should, however, be pos-
sible to apply scientific methods not
only to scientific research, but also
“to obtain a more general attention
to the objects of science.”

Professor W. A. Herdman is suc-
ceeded in the presidency of the as-
sociation by Sir Edward Thorpe,
emeritus professor of chemistry in
the Imperial College of Science, Lon-
don. The meeting next year will be
at Edinburgh.

THE SCIENTIFIC INVESTIGA-
TION OF THE OCEAN

As an example of the discussions
at the meetings of the British Asso-
ciation that before the section of
zoology on the need for the scien-
tific investigation of the ocean, as
reported in Nature, may be taken.
Dr. W. A. Herdman, the president
of the meeting, is professor of
oceanography at Liverpool and his

| investigated

programs of scientific papers are so under the best expert advice and

381

address on this subject naturally
led to a fuller discussion with a
practical object in view.

In opening the discussion, Profes-
sor Herdman pointed out the need
of investigation under two heads—
the scientific need and the industrial.
He proposed that there should be a
great national oceanographical ex-
pedition—that is, another Challenger
expedition, fitted out by the British
Admiralty, and embracing all de-
partments of the science of the sea
by modern methods
control. Such an expedition would
require long and careful prepara-
tion, so even though the present time

/may seem to some inopportune to

press such an undertaking, if this

oceanographers, it might be wise to
form a preliminary committee to
collect information and prepare a
scheme.

In the further discussion Profes-
sor J. Stanley Gardiner, Dr. E. J.
Allen, Mr. C. Tate Regan and others
took part, including Professor C. A.
Kofoid from the United States and
Professor J. E. Duerden from the
Union of South Africa. Mr. F. E.
Smith, director of scientific research
at the admiralty, stated that his de-
partment had considered the ques-
tion of a new Challenger expedi-
tion, and was of opinion that such
an expedition was required, and he
felt sure that the admiralty would
take its share in the organization.

At the close of the discussion a
resolution was unanimously agreed
to pointing out the importance of
urging the initiation of a national
expedition for the exploration of the
ocean, and requesting that the coun-
cil of the British Association should
take the necessary steps to impress
this need upon the government and
the nation. On the following day, at
the committee of recommendations,
this resolution also received vigorous

JAMES WILSON

Secretary of Agriculture in the cabinets of Presidents McKinley, Roosevelt and
Taft, previously professor of agriculture in the Iowa State College and director of
the Experiment Station, who died on August 26, at the age of eighty-five years.

WILHELM WouNpD?T |

Professor of philosophy in the University of Teipzig, leader in the foundation of psy-
chology as a science, who died on August 31, in his eighty-ninth year.

os4

support from other sections, e. g.,
those dealing with chemistry, phys-
ics, geology, and geography, in all

of which, as well as in zoology, in- |

vestigations are required which could
undertaken by such an expedi-
tion. The general committee of the
association recommended the coun-
cil to appoint an expert committee
to prepare a program of work and
to consider the personnel and ap-
paratus required.

At its last two meetings the Pa-
cific Division of the American Asso-
ciation has given special attention
to deep-sea investigations and fur-

be

ther emphasis was placed on the,

subject by the Pan-Pacifie Confer-

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Dr. GEORGE ELLERY HALE, director
of the Mount Wilson Observatory,
has been elected one of the twelve
foreign members of the Societa
Italiana delle Scienze, in succession
to the late Lord Rayleigh.—Profes-
sor Raymond Pearl, of the Johns
Hopkins University, has been deco-
rated by the King of Italy as Knight
of the Crown of Italy.—Professor R.
Roux, director of the Pasteur Insti-
tute at Paris, has been awarded by
the United States government the
Distinguished Service Medal for
especially meritorious and _ distin-
guished service which was of great
consequence to the American Expe-
ditionary Forces.

ence held last month at Honolulu. |

It would be desirable in the present
international situation for the United
States to cooperate with Great Bri-
tain and its Dominions in a thorough
scientific exploration of the seas.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS
WE record with regret the deaths

of Joseph Paxon Iddings, formerly |

geologist of the United States Geo-
logical Survey and professor of pe-
trology in the University of Chi-
cago;
omist of the United States Depart-
ment of Agriculture; Dr. Walter
Faxon, until recently in charge of
mollusca and crustacea in the Mu-
seum of Comparative Zoology of
Harvard University; Ellis L. Mi-
chael, zoologist of the Scripps Insti-

tution for Biological Research of the

University of California; Benjamin

Smith Lyman, geologist and mining |

engineer of Philadelphia; John
Percy, professor of mathematics at
the Royal College of Science, Lon-
con; Sir Norman Lockyer, director
of the Solar Physics Observatory,
London, and editor of Nature from
its establishment over fifty years
ago, and Wilhelm Wundt, professor
of philosophy at the University of
Leipzig, where he established the
first laboratory of psychology.

Samuel Mills Tracy, agron-|

COLONEL F. F. RUSSELL has re-
'signed from the Medical Corps, U.
|S. Army, to take charge of the
newly organized Division of Public
Health Laboratories of the Interna-
tional Health Board of the Rocke-
‘feller Foundation.— Dr. Charles
Hubbard Judd, head of the depart-
ment of education of the University
of Chicago and director of the school
of education, has been made chair-
man of the department of psychol-
cgy to succeed Professor James R.
Angell, who resigned to accept the
presidency of the Carnegie Corpora-
| tion of New York.

YALE UNIVERSITY has_ received
from an unnamed graduate a gift
of $3,000,000 to the general endow-
ment of the university, contingent
‘upon additional gifts of $2,000,000
'by next January, exclusive of those

through the alumni university fund.

The gift is made to meet increased
faculty salaries—Cornell University
has received a gift of $500,000 from
‘Mr. August Heckscher, of New York
City, for the endowment of research.
The income of the fund created by
Mr> Heckscher’s gift will be used to
maintain research professorships
and to provide facilities for scientific
work.

THE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

NOVEMBER, 1920

THE ROLE OF PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY
OPERATIONS’

By KIRK BRYAN

UNITED STATES GEOLOGICAL SURVEY

INTRODUCTION

TUDY of the terrain is an essential preparation for military
S operations. Under terrain, students of military science
include all the features of the land surface, whether natural or
artificial, which affect the movements and disposition of troops
either on the offensive or defensive. The relative importance
of the terrain in a military problem varies obviously with re-
spect to other factors, such as the strength, disposition, and
morale of both enemy, and friendly troops, and the proportion
of infantry to the other arms present. It may be safely assumed
that the terrain will enter into the solution of nearly every mili-
tary problem. The features of the land surface under various
names, such as topography and land form, are the principal
study of the modern school of physiographers and geographers.
Physiographers are concerned with the origin of the topography
of the earth’s surface; geographers with the relation of this
topography to the habits and character of man. The methods
and results of these scientific inquiries into the nature of
topography may, however, be readily adapted to the needs of
military operations. This relation between physiographic and
military science was first recognized by the French, though
their use of physiographic material in the late war was sub-
conscious rather than conscious.’

1 Published by permission of the Director of the United States Geo-
logical Survey.

2 Brooks, Alfred H., “ The Use of Geology on the Western Front,”
U. S. Geol. Survey, Contrib. to General Geol. Prof. Paper. In press.

Marga, A., “ Géographie Militaire,” 5 vols. and atlas, Paris. 1884—
1885.

VOL. xI.—25.

oo
eZ)
oO

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Where operations are on a large scale, neither the respon-
sible general officers nor line officers have sufficient time or
opportunity for detailed study and analysis of the terrain. They
must rely for information on the maps and reports of others.
The preparation of these reports, in so far as they pertain to
terrain only, can best be done by geologists trained in physi-
ography. The same methods and observations which they are
accustomed to make for scientific studies serve equally well for
military purposes.

The preceding generalizations have resulted from my ser-
vice in the late war, and the following paper divides naturally
into two parts: (1) a personal account of the use of physiog-
raphy in actual operations; (2) suggestions for the application
of physiographic information and for the utilization of geolo-
gists in the future.

The preparation of the paper has been greatly facilitated
by the generous and constructive criticism of Mr. A. H. Brooks,
formerly Lieutenant Colonel, Engineers, and chief geologist, A.
E. F., Major Lawrence Martin, G. S., Lieutenant Colonel A. M.
Prentiss, C. W. S., and Messrs. N. C. Grover, H. G. Ferguson,
Sidney Paige and John S. Brown.

EXPERIMENTS IN THE USE OF PHYSIOGRAPHY

Organization of the 5th Army Corps

Through the operations of the Selective Draft, I found my-
self on June 30, 1918, a private in Headquarters Detachment of
the 5th Army Corps. An army corps is the administrative unit
which supervises three or more divisions and is, in turn, sub-
ordinate to the army. The newly organized 5th Corps had head-
quarters at this time in Remiremont, Vosges, and the command-
ing general had administrative but not tactical control of two
divisions which were in training under a French Corps com-
mander on the Alsace Front. The headquarters staff was di-
vided into three sections, of which the second, known as the
Intelligence Section, or simply G—2, had to do with information
regarding the enemy, morale behind the lines, and counter
espionage. Colonel George M. Russell, a regular army officer,
was in command of this section of the Staff consisting of 12
officers and 59 enlisted men. Maps, map-making, and drafting
for the corps were handled by a subdivision of G—2 called the
Topographical Section, or G—2-—C, in which I was enrolled as a

Barré, O., “ Cours de Géographie, and Croquis Geographique, l’école
d’application de l’artillerie et du genie,” Fontainebleau, 1897-1900.

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 5387

draftsman. Lieutenant Reuben A. Kiger, a topographical engi-
neer of much experience on the United States Geological Survey,
was in charge, and later he was assisted by Lieutenant R. B.
Holmes.

My time for the first month was occupied in improving my
technique in drafting and in learning the routine of Corps pro-
cedure. The officers of the Corps were also engaged in adjust-
ing themselves to their new duties and not the least of their
problems was to learn the use of maps. Largely recent civilians,
lawyers, business men and engineers, they had paid little atten-
tion during their early education to topography and maps.
Their army training was so brief and crowded that these studies
had seemed less important than infantry drill and army paper
work. Colonel Russell with his West Point training and Lieu-
tenant Kiger and Lieutenant Holmes with experience on the
Geological Survey were quite exceptional in starting in on Corps
duties with an adequate knowledge of maps. While frankness
compels us to admit this serious deficiency, one should bear in
mind the remarkable achievements of this organization. The
French consider that the building up of a Corps Staff is a mat-
ter of years yet the 5th Corps within two months of its organi-
zation began the successful St. Mihiel drive and two weeks later
formed the center of the line in the Argonne in one of the most.
stubbornly fought engagements in history.

At the close of the St. Mihiel drive, the Corps had settled
down in its routine work and a very keen appreciation of the
value and use of maps had arisen. The Topographic Section
was now called on for maps of many different scales and for
many different purposes.

Block Diagram of the Argonne Region

The first rush of the Argonne offensive, beginning Septem-
ber 26, was remarkably successful. But because of increasing
resistance and our inability to bring forward artillery fast
enough, we were hung up before Cierges from September 28 to
October 4. Again from October 5 to 8 we were stalled near
Gesnes, by the outpost defenses of the Kriemhilde Stellung.
The First and Third Corps on either side were in similar
difficulties.

Many of our troubles arose from lack of appreciation of the
terrain. Around Corps Headquarters many officers did not
seem to have an adequate conception of the country in which
the Corps was fighting, nor its relation to contiguous territory.

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

38

(7 4)

This impression, based on the gossip of Headquarters available
to enlisted men, seemed to reflect a state of mind prevalent
throughout the whole organization. Divisions and smaller units
had of course even less information than we had, but had the
advantage of seeing the country immediately in front of them.
Lack of appreciation of topography was general and, while ex-
cusable, a condition which could be easily remedied.

A number of our officers had read D. W. Johnson’s book on
“ Topography and Strategy of the War” and they testified that
it had given them an invaluable conception of the topography
of the theater of war in France. I could not, of course, judge
of the correctness of Johnson’s views on strategy, but his
method of presentation is excellent. His topographic descrip-
tion is based on the best physiographic information and is built
around and constantly refers to a simple block diagram of east-
ern France. Accordingly, I began work during time free from
other duties, on a block diagram of the Argonne Region, similar
in style to Johnson’s diagram of eastern France.

The diagram is reproduced in Fig. 1, having been redrawn
and slightly modified to conform with the detailed geologic maps
now available. At the time, the only source of information was
a school atlas of France. The text, reproduced below, has also
been altered to conform more nearly to my present conception
of what such a topographic description should be. The diagram
and text are, however, essentially the same as when they were
issued as a supplement to the Corps Summary of Intelligence.
It will be noted that there is no discussion of strategy or tactics,
which are not considered to be within the province of the In-
telligence Section.

MILITARY TOPOGRAPHY OF THE ARGONNE REGION

The Argonne Region as a field for military operations has
certain striking topographic features. The Argonne and ad-
jacent territory from our front line northward consists of six
distinct belts of country. As shown in the block diagram at-
tached, these regions, beginning at the west, are: (1) Escarp-
ment of the Dry Champagne (Champagne Pouilleuse), the
crenulated edge of a plateau; (2) Aisne Valley (Champagne
Humide), a lowland; (3) Foret d’Argonne, a rugged ridge;
(4) Aire Valley, a flat-bottomed valley with rolling country on
the east; (5) Cote de Meuse, a deeply incised plateau; (6)
Wovere Plain, a lowland. The topography of each of these
regions is carved from the underlying rocks which form the rim

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 389

of the Paris Basin. These rocks are great sheets of limestone
and shale which dip gently beneath the ground to the west and
southwest like the edges of a nest of saucers with Paris in the
center. Each bed of limestone forms a ridge with an abrupt
slope on the east, and a gentle westward slope. The shales
form lowlands between the ridges. The ridges thus formed are:
(1) Escarpment of the Dry Champagne; (2) Forét d’Argonne;
(3) Cote de Meuse.

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The Escarpment of the Dry Champagne is about 60 meters
high, and is in many places cleared and cultivated, yet
the branching ravines which indent the border of the escarp-
ment and drain eastward to Aisne River afford excellent cover
for artillery. The rough country yields many places suitable
for local strong points. The effectiveness of this topography
for defensive operations is shown in the recent resistance of

390 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the enemy on the line Monthois-Livry-Orfeull, west of
Challerange.

The Forét d’Argonne ridge rises 100 meters above the ad-
jacent valley of the Aisne. It is much higher and more rugged
than the Escarpment of the Dry Champagne. The scanty soil
and steep slopes have led to its being used almost exclusively as
timber land and there are few clearings and few roads. ‘The
ridge is divided by the valley of the Aire River at Grandpré.
North of this gap it is not so bold or conspicuous and gradually
fades out into isolated wooded hills in the vicinity of Attigny.

The Céte de Meuse lies parallel to the Foret d’Argonne at a
distance of 25 to 30 kilometers. The eastern border of this
plateau is a particularly bold escarpment rising about 250
meters above the Woevre Plain. Against the eastern face of
the plateau the waves of the German advance broke in 1914.
The canyon of the Meuse River divides the ridge diagonally
between Verdun and Dun-sur-Meuse. The serpentine bends of
this flat-floored canyon prohibit its use as a ready means of
advance across the ridge, yet the sharp bends and projecting
spurs prevent long-range observation and render sections of
the canyon, once occupied, of great value for the location of
supply lines. The tributaries of the Meuse entering from east
and west have cut sharp ravines in both walls of the canyon
and converted the plateau into a succession of cross-ridges.
Over these ridges and astride the river the Crown Prince ad-
vanced in his assault on Verdun. In turn, over the same suc-
cessive ridges, the Allies are now advancing northward. The
advantage of topography is, however, with the Allies, for the
Cote de Meuse decreases in height toward the north and fades
out into isolated hills and ridges at la Bar River.

The lowlands of the regions are: (1) The Aisne Valley; (2)
The Aire Valley (from Varennes to Buzancy) ; (8) The Woevre
Plain.

The Aisne Valley, or more properly the Valley of the Upper
Aisne, is the northern representative of the Wet Champagne.
The soil is clayey and tends to be boggy in wet weather.

The district from Varennes to Buzancy may be considered
as a lower belt of country between the Forét d’Argonne and the
Cote de Meuse, or as the lower slope of the latter ridge. It is
bordered on the west by the valley of the Aire River. This
valley is narrow from Varennes to Grandpré, but north of the
Grandpré a similar but broader lowland extends northward to
the pass east of Attigny. East of the Aire valley, the country
is a rolling plateau drained by streams which flow west to Aire

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 391

River in rather broad, smooth valleys, and by streams which
flow eastward to Meuse River in narrower, steeper valleys and
ravines. The interstream areas are broad and smooth, and rise
to similar elevations except for isolated hills or groups of hills
which stand as knobs on the generally smooth upland. Such
knobs are the hills at Vauquois and Montfaucon and the clump
of hills southwest of Romagne-sous-Montfaucon. The woods
are usually located on the divides and isolated hills. Offensive
operations in such a country consist in the taking of one east-
west ridge after another. Possession of the wooded ridge crests
and the isolated hills gives the best observation posts and largest
field of fire. That these features are thoroughly appreciated by
the enemy may be seen in the skill with which the Kriemhilde
Stellung has been located so as to take full advantage of this
topography.

The Woevre Plain, underlain by soft and impervious shales,
has two primary characteristics: It is very flat, and very muddy
in wet weather. The plain, however, narrows rapidly north of
Verdun, and from Stenay northward gradually disappears in
the gently-rolling country of the pass of the Sedan. Once the
Cote de Meuse is completely held, the Woevre Plain forms no
obstacle to an advance into Sedan.

The pass of Sedan lies between the ridges previously men-
tioned and the rough mountainous country called the Ardennes.
Traffic from the east follows the valley of la Chiers River. West
of Sedan the Canal d’Ardennes runs southwestward up the
valley of la Bar River, and then over a low divide to the Aisne
River at Attigny. The pass of Sedan, comprising the valley of
the Meuse from Sedan to Meziéres, is the route along which
runs the main line railroad Metz-Conflans-Longuyon-Mont-
medy-Sedan-Meziéres. This portion of the railroad is the cen-
tral section of the great “ligne de rocade” which parallels the
German front in the west, and over which troops are shifted
laterally along the line. The cutting of this line at Sedan is
topographically practicable once the Forét d’Argonne and the
Cote de Meuse are held.

The Attack of November 1, 1918

From October 8 to October 16 our Corps was occupied with
the slow and painful assault on the Kriemhilde Stellung, which
ran among the wooded hills southwest of Romagne-sous-Mont-
faucon. This German defense position had been provided with
wire but the trenches had only been marked out and not dug to

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PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 393

the full depth. The Kriemhilde Stellung was then not a com-
plete trench system but a previously selected retirement posi-
tion which was rather hastily converted into a deep zone of
machine gun positions and rendered very serviceable because
the high hills gave good observation of our preparations for
attack. Wood by wood, and hill by hill, these positions were
gradually taken. By October 21, our Corps front lay in front
of the wire south of Landres-et-St. Georges and thence swung
northeast along the border of the Bois de Bantheville. The
local and general situation being ripe, a general assault was
ordered for the morning of November 1, 1918. For this suc-
cessful attack most elaborate preparations were made and the
maps produced by G—2, 5th Army Corps, are so complete and
well designed that they are likely to become a classic ser H
of good practice.

On the evening of October 30, Lieutenant Holmes gave me
orders to prepare a report on the streams which lay in front of
our positions, and which might prove an obstacle to our ad-
vance. There was no information available regarding these
streams except that shown on the Plan Directeur, a map com-
piled by the French on the scale 1:20,000. The Water Supply
Report on the area issued by the Chief Engineer gave no par-
ticulars of these minor streams. However, this seemed to be an
opportunity to describe the valleys even if there was no infor-
mation about the streams. The area to be covered, shown in
Figure 2, lay between our jump-off line in front of Landres-et-
St. Georges and the objective line along the crest of the Cote de
Meuse west of Barricourt. It is 6 kilometers (5 miles) wide,
and has an area of 44 square kilometers. The topographic de-
scription of a small area is difficult enough, and particularly so
when direct observation can not be made. The remarks on the
convexity of valley walls and on the importance of gullies were
due to observations around Cheppy, and are probably the most
valuable part of the paper.

With good maps on the scale of 1: 20,000, and opportunity
to view the country from a balloon, descriptions of this type
would be rather easy to prepare. They should be useful to in-
fantry officers to explain the maps which are now commonly
furnished to them with orders to attack. Later, the same de-
scription would furnish material to the Corps Press Officer for
the daily description of the terrain which he furnishes to
correspondents.

394 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

MEMORANDUM OF THE WATER COURSES AND VALLEYS OF THE
ZONE OF ADVANCE OF THE 5TH ARMY CORPS

The zone of advance of the 5th Army Corps lies on the west-
ern slope of the Céte de Meuse. This striking geographical
feature is a ridge which has a very steep eastern slope and a
gentle western slope. It extends north as far as Verdun, and
thence northwesterly, dying out in a series of low hills in the
vicinity of La Chesne. The sinuous valley of the Meuse River
breaks the continuity of the ridge east of the Corps Area, while
the valley of la Bar River, extending from the lowlands near
Buzancy north to Sedan, marks approximately its northern
boundary.

The streams which drain the Cote de Meuse flow northeast
and east to the Woevre Plain and Meuse River and southwest
to the Aire River from a broad divide. The streams which flow
northeasterly lie in sharp, steep-sided canyons and divide the
eastern border of the Cote de Meuse into a series of ridges
which extend like stubby fingers into the Woevre plain. The
southwesterly streams are longer, have wider valleys and
gentler gradients.

The divide between these two stream systems is usually flat,
and from 14 to 1 kilometer wide, and generally wooded. South
of Bantheville the divide lies west of the crest of the ridge;
north of this point the stream divide swings northwestward and
corresponds to the crest of the Cote de Meuse. In a general
view only the gentle westward slope of the plateau is visible.
The stream valleys are concealed. The drainage divide is only
a part of the general plateau surface which slopes gently west
and southwest. Occasional knobs, such as the Cote Dame Marie
and the Garenne de Moulin, rise above the general level. Such
knobs are usually located on the divide. Because of their steep
and wooded slopes the enemy uses these knobs as strong points.
They have also high value as sites for observation posts. Mili-
tary operations along the wooded divide are difficult, but the
history of fighting in the Bois de Gesnes, Bois de Romagne, and
Bois de Chauvignon show that the divide once attained com-
mands the lateral valleys. North of the present line the divide
is marked by Bois d’Andevanne, le Fey Bois, and Bois de la
Folie.

Since the eastern boundary of the Corps Area runs along the
drainage divide as far as le Fey Bois, the right division will
have no running water to cross except on its extreme left wing.
The upper parts of Ruisseau St. Georges, and Ruisseau de

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 395

l’Agron are very small streams, and present no obstacles. The
left division will cross both streams with its whole front. These
streams are shallow brooks easily waded except in very wet
weather. Like all the streams of the region, however, the
brooks are lined with trees and bushes, and these furnish
natural concealment to small bodies of men. North of Imecourt
an unnamed stream flows diagonally across the field of action
of the left division. It is, however, no larger than those pre-
viously mentioned, and it should be possible to cross freely from
one side to the other. The bushes and trees along its banks will
furnish some cover in the valley, otherwise easily commanded
by fire from an enemy stationed near Bayonville et Chennery.

The succession of stream valleys which one after another
cross the Corps Area present much more serious obstacles than
the streams which flow in them. A brief description is there-
fore given. There are three important valleys: (1) The valley of
Ruisseau St. Georges; (2) Valley of Ruisseau de l’Agron; (3)
Valley of the unnamed stream flowing from Bayonville et Chen-
nery to Imecourt. Each of these valleys is about 1 kilometer
wide. The slopes are gentle, cleared and cultivated. The slope
of the valley walls is, however, convex upward, 7.e., the upper
part of the slope is gentle, the lower part steep. Thus it is
necessary, in most cases, for an observer to come part way
down the slope to see the bottom of the valley, and, vice versa,
an observer in the bottom of the valley can rarely see the crest.
The importance of this dead ground is obvious.

In general, the tributary valleys are mere crenulations on
the valley walls, and consequently of little value. In each of
the three valleys there is, however, an important exception.

In St. Georges Valley, at the town of Landres-et-St. Georges,
and extending due north for a kilometer, and thence to and
beyond Ferme la Bergerie, is a deep ravine. In this ravine is
an enemy narrow-gauge railway. Once the heights on either
side are taken, this ravine affords ready communication, free of
enemy observation, to the heights dominating the valley of
Ruisseau de ]’Agron.

From the valley of Ruisseau de l’Agron the ravine of Farbo
Ruisseau extends about 114 km. north of Landreville. It is ap-
proximately parallel to the valley from Imecourt to Bayonville
et Chennery; consequently, from the region of Imecourt and
Landreville to the north our left division will be progressing
with the grain of the country instead of against it. This sudden
change in terrain will have proportionate effect.

The valley of the unnamed stream from Imecourt to Bayon-

396 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ville is not essentially unlike the others. North of Bayonville
et Chennery, however, it forks almost at right angles. A third
ravine gives the head of this valley a fanlike arrangement of
ravines. Once Bayonville is held these ravines offer excellent
lines of approach against the heights from Barricot Bois to
Bois de la Folie.

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FRONTIER OF FRANCE.

While in general the valley walls are smooth, and the valley
bottoms are grassy meadows, there are a few narrow, steep-
banked gullies. These gullies are from 5 to 15 feet deep, from
10 to 50 feet broad, and from 4, to 34 of a mile long. The

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 397

gullies seem to be recent in origin and due to concentration of
flood waters since the clearing of the original forests. Each
gully forms a natural trench with a natural camouflage of over-
arching bushes. The Germans use the gullies very cleverly for
machine-gun positions, artillery positions and dugouts.

Map of the Physiographic Province of Northeastern France

About the middle of October the need of a map of north-
eastern France on a sufficiently small scale to be studied readily
when held in the hand seemed plain though no maps of this type
were furnished us. Our officers were continually handicapped
by the necessity of handling large maps crammed with detail
of little significance for the major problems. Captain (then
First Lieutenant) Thomas H. Thomas, Officer in charge of
Enemy Order of Battle, requested Lieutenant Holmes to have me
compile a map to show the main railway lines of northeastern
France. This opportunity enabled me to make such a map and
one that could also be used to show the location of the physio-
graphic provinces. The map was made by tracing and piecing
together the small maps on the scale: 1: 2,000,000 which appear
in the Atlas Classique de France, by Schader & Galleuedec to
which reference has already been made.

The completion of this map was delayed by my being as-
signed to the advance echelon at Cheppy, but the lithograph was
completed by November 5. While the lithographers were at
work a tracing of the physiographic provinces was made in
blue hectograph ink. By use of the jelly roll the boundaries of
the provinces were over-printed on the black lithograph in blue.
This map excited much interest among our officers, and with
and without the overprint it would have been very useful if
operations had continued. It is reproduced in Figure 3, redrawn
so as to be reproduced in one color and to eliminate some of
the crudities of the original.

Value of the Work.

To estimate the value of Intelligence Work is difficult enough,
and one can not be sure that any of these efforts had any value
in the final result. However, the following quotation from
Colonel Russell’s report on the work of G—2, 5th Army Corps in
the Meuse-Argonne is typical of his generous attitude:

Among the draughtsmen of the Topographical Section was an ex-
pert geologist, who prepared an excellent study on “ The Military Topog-

raphy of the Argonne Region,” “ A Memorandum on the Water Courses
and Valleys of the Zone of Advance of the 5th Army Corps,” and a “ Map

398 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of the Physiographie Provinces of the Eastern Frontier of France.” This
work is normally beyond the scope undertaken by the Corps, and falls
more naturally under Army activities, but Private Kirk Bryan (now
Second-Lieutenant Engineers) prepared the studies on his own initiative,
and they were too good not to be published.

PART II. SUGGESTIONS FOR THE USE OF PHYSIOGRAPHY IN THE
ARMY

Reports on Topography

In the foregoing sections, the use in military operations of
studies of topography has been illustrated. Many other ex-
amples could doubtless be culled from the Intelligence reports
of the various armies engaged in the Great War. Future studies
of this kind will fall naturally into two groups: (1) studies of
large areas; (2) studies of areas of moderate or small size.
Studies of large areas will partake of the general character of
the report on the Argonne Region and the map of the physio-
graphic provinces of northeastern France. Work of this type
will be undertaken as a basis for strategical plans and study, or
for the general information of officers and troops. It is natu-
rally a duty of the staff of an army or the higher command in a
campaign involving more than one army. Moderate-sized areas
will ordinarily be involved in the sphere of an army corps. The
problems will be tactical, but the occasions for making the
studies may be of different sorts. In the example given in pre-
ceding pages the object was to describe a small area for the
information of troops immediately before an attack. It is con-
ceivable, however; that a detailed description illustrated by
block diagrams and profiles would be of great value in solving
the tactical problems of the slow reduction of an enemy posi-
tion. The complicated topography of the Cote Dame Marie and
adjacent hills would have furnished a fit subject for such a
study.

Genetic Study of Land Forms

It is well recognized among physiographers and geographers
that a complete understanding of land forms, that is, topog-
raphy, can only be gained and remembered by a study of the
origin of these forms. This study of genesis has led to the con-
ception of the earth’s surface as a series of repeating patterns,
the patterns being identical where like rocks have been sub-

3 Russell, Geo. M., Colonel G. S., Assistant Chief of Staff, G-2, Report

of the Second Section, G. S., 5th Army Corps, U. S., Jan. 27, 1919. Intel-
ligence Section, 5th Corps in Meuse-Argonne Operations, Ms. p. 22.

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 399

jected to like conditions for equal times. Davis has summed up
this condition in the dictum: Form equals structure plus process
plus stage. As a result of the application of this dictum, the
trained physiographer has a classification of hills, of valleys,
of shore lines, etc., imperfect enough, but sufficiently exact so
that a single term calls up to his mind solid objects very com-
plex in form, and frequently difficult to describe as individual
or abstract units.

Just as he has classified single land forms, so he has divided
the earth’s surface into tracts of country having similar land
forms or similar diversification of topography. By means of
these divisions he has simplified the task of learning the char-
acteristics of the topography of whole continents. Thus, both
systematic physiography and descriptive physiography are a
necessary part of the training of a professional soldier, for con-
cise statements defining the character of the terrain form the
basis for tactics and strategy. To the thoroughly trained officer
operating in a region with which he is familiar, knowledge of
the terrain comes easily, as part of his daily observation and
map study. He hardly realizes what a large role it plays as a
background for his thought, nor the difficulty which other men
may have in acquiring the same knowledge. Thus the French
had no geological officers, for a knowledge of French geology
and physiography is a part of the training of every educated
Frenchman, and many of their permanent officers are amateur
geologists.

The American Expeditionary Force, operating in a strange
country, with officers the bulk of whom were but recently
civilians, needed an adequate system to supply information re-
garding topography, geography and geology. For engineer
units, the geologic section of the Chief Engineer’s Office, G. H.
Q., under Lieutenant Colonel Alfred H. Brooks, supplied geologic
information in a satisfactory manner. There was, however, no
organized attempt to supply the army with predigested topog-
raphic information.

Peace-time Conditions

In peace time the courses in physiography in military col-
leges should be strengthened, and colleges which maintain a
Reserve Officers’ Training Corps, should make courses in physi-
ography compulsory for men enlisted in the Corps The courses
should be complete and thorough, but no special military flavor
is necessary. An American army officer, even with his frequent
transfers, can not be personally familiar with so great a country

400 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

as the United States. Our possessions are also quite extensive
and widely scattered. The regular army officer, on transfer to
a new post, should be able to quickly search out, read and under-
stand the available physiographic literature. He will thus most
rapidly obtain that grasp of the terrain which will make his
military knowledge and ability most useful.

The physiographic studies of large areas here advocated
will become a part of the Monographs of Military Intelligence
now published by the General Staff of the Army. The studies
of smaller areas will be useful in the preparation of the Zone -
Handbooks of the same organization.

Use of Physiographic Material in Training Periods

Knowledge along physiographic lines is rapidly being ad-
vanced. No artificial stimulus seems necessary, but areas of
particular military value might be put on a preferred list by
State and National Surveys. At the present time fuller knowl-
edge of the Mexican border would be of great potential value.
Prior to the outbreak of war, however, special pamphlets giving
a brief but comprehensive description of the theater or prob-
able theaters of war should be prepared from the constantly in-
creasing body of physiographic literature. These pamphlets
might well be prepared, at the request of the Army, by the
United States Geological Survey. Such a plan was already on
foot at the close of the war and abandoned because of the
armistice. These pamphlets should be distributed to all officers
and officer candidates. Judging by the popularity of D. W.
Johnson’s “ Topography and Strategy of the War,” such pam-
phlets would be eagerly read and studied.

As a stimulus to map reading and to the acquirements of
the art of observation, short descriptions of cantonment and
billeting areas are useful. These should contain simplified
physiographic and geographic descriptions with accounts of
local points of historic and scenic interest. They should be
longer, but similar in character to the descriptions which were
prepared during the late war, and printed on the backs of
topographic maps of cantonment areas. Since these pamphlets
would be simple compilations of existing material, and of no
special value to the enemy, they should be available to all ranks.

Personnel in Active Operations

At the outbreak of war, a suitable group of geologists should
be chosen for duty with the Army. It is obvious that they

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 401

should not be too old, nor more valuable at home because of
expert knowledge of war minerals. The ranking officers should,
however, be men of maturity and sound judgment. All the
geologists in the Army should be responsible to a single officer
for the technical side of their work. The geologic work done
to determine suitable locations for dugouts may be equally valu-
able in solving a question in water supply; also, the same books
and maps are necessary in preparing physiographic studies as
in locating well drained sites for camps and hospitals.

Geologists with special aptitude for physiographic work
while remaining under technical supervision of the Chief Geolo-
gist should be detailed to the Intelligence Section. To these
_ officers will fall the work of preparing studies of the topography
for the information of officers responsible for operations. These
studies will then fall in line with other studies prepared in the
Intelligence Section (G—2), and can be circulated in the same
fashion.

Duties of Officers Assigned to Intelligence Section

The studies instituted by geological officers with G—2 will
be of two types: (1) confidential reports to the higher command
in advance of decisions, (2) general reports to lower units after
decision.

Confidential reports will be dependent, for their effective-
ness on the good judgment of the geologist, and he should be
specially selected and of the highest caliber. He must have and
retain the confidence of responsible officers, and for the best
results he should have relatively high rank and should be as-
signed to, or be a member of the General Staff.

After decisions have been made as to the field of operations,
or for offensives in large areas, reports should be sent out from
Army Headquarters describing the topography, geology and
other features of the terrain. These reports should be of a gen-
eral character, somewhat similar to the ‘“‘ Military topography
of the Argonne Region,” but longer and with more detail.
These reports should be illustrated by special maps, diagrams,
and photographs, and so designed as to excite interest and to
stimulate thought and observation in officers of the lower
echelons. These general reports may well be followed later by
special memoranda commenting on certain features of the land-
scape which experience has shown to have particular military
importance. The illustrations for the reports will tax the in-
genuity of their author, since the material should be presented
in as graphic and pictorial a manner as possible.

VOL. XI.—26.

402 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

When an offensive involving a corps or army front has
been decided on, the geological officers should prepare special
reports for each corps on the topography of the zone of advance.
These reports should be circulated with orders to attack. They
should be so written that they do not imply definite boundaries
to the corps zone of advance, or define the objective, else by fall-
ing into the hands of the enemy early in the attack they give
him useful knowledge. With this proviso they should be cir-
culated down to platoon commanders. These men, in particular,
should have their imagination stimulated, and visualization of
the map made easy by a written description. Necessarily,
they will have had less technical training than officers of higher
rank, yet the platoon commanders must first penetrate into the
new country. In the late war many platoon commanders went
forward for five or six kilometers, with no map and no infor-
mation but the order to follow a certain compass direction. A
small-sized sketch map and a written description of the country
are certainly not too much to give them.

The preparation of these descriptions will probably be the
most difficult task of those outlined in this paper. The areas
will be small. In many instances, the hills, valleys, and streams
have no local names. The differences between adjacent hills
may be very slight and difficult to describe. Also the audience
addressed will contain men of all degrees of education with very
diverse civilian occupations, and of many temperaments. All
these men will be tired, worn with anxiety, restless from excite-
ment, and many of them hungry. They will be compelled to
read the statement under all conceivable conditions of discom-
fort and danger. It should then be short, simple, but vividly
worded, and should drive home important points by repetition
of simple phrases.

These descriptions for the attack should be rewritten for
the Press Officers of each Corps. It is the duty of these officers
to furnish daily to war correspondents a description of the
country in which fighting occurs. They are usually newspaper
men, and will quickly absorb and make popular the phrases
which the geologist-physiographer applies to the topography.
Such work has its reflex action, since an American army, from
general to private, reads the daily communiqués and the ac-
counts of war correspondents at every opportunity. If the
topographic descriptions in these accounts are good then the
whole army is educated, and official descriptions such as have
been advocated will have proportionately greater effect.

PHYSIOGRAPHY IN MILITARY OPERATIONS 403

Facilities for Geological Officers

The geological officers performing the functions outlined
above will require a small working library. Through the Chief
Geologist they will obtain geologic maps and reports prepared
for engineering purposes. They should also have access to the
maps printed and prepared by the Intelligence Section (G—2-C).
They should have the complete confidence of the Intelligence
Section of the unit to which they are attached, and should have
the right to have special maps and diagrams prepared by this
organization through which also their reports will be circulated.

Field work along the firing line will often be necessary, and
the geologists should have frequent conferences with line officers
of all grades. Admission to observation posts of all types should
be granted them for the purpose of viewing the enemy terri-
tory. Occasional use of observation balloons and even aero-
planes may also be necessary.

404 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE
1790

By JAMES L. BAHRET

STATISTICIAN, PUBLIC SERVICE COMMISSION, NEW YORK

rWNHE federal government has recently finished its fourteenth
i i census. This fact suggests a retrospect of New York’s
growth in population since the first federal census of 1790. In
that year, the city limits embraced the entire island of Man-
hattan, although approximately only the area south of Canal
Street was divided up into city blocks. All the rest of the island
was occupied by farms with the exception of several straggling
hamlets. In the course of years, as Westchester County began
to be invaded with continuous rows of houses reaching out from
the north bank of the Harlem River, slice after slice was split
off and annexed to New York City. Finally, in 1898, with the
formation of the so-called “Greater New York,” the city limits
were fixed as they are at present.

In order to eliminate the disturbing effect on population
figures due to changes in the areas of the enumerated units, the
figures in this article, for every year, have been computed, from
the census reports, for the various areas as they existed at the
last federal census, 1910. Thus allowance has been made for
transfers of townships from county to county. The only excep-
tions are the several cases where a township has been split up
between two counties or equivalent units. Changes in areas of
units of the New York Metropolitan District subsequently to
1910 have been inconsiderable.

WHAT CONSTITUTES ECONOMIC NEW YORK AND THE METRO-
POLITAN DISTRICT

In the accompanying map, Economie or Industrial New
York—including the Jersey portion of the great community en-
circling New York Bay—is bounded by the heavy continuous
line, stretching in a rough half-circle from Jones’ Beach, just
east of Long Beach, to the Raritan River. On the east, it coin-
cides with the eastern boundary of Nassau County. On the
north and west it coincides with the outer boundaries of the
cities and towns whose names are entered on the map inside the
heavy boundary line. These are the limits fixed by the United

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790 409

States Census Bureau for Industrial New York, which in this
article I prefer to call Economic New York.

Besides the municipality of New York, the Economic me-
tropolis embraces the entire counties of Nassau and Hudson,
and parts of six others: Westchester, Bergen, Passaic, Essex,
Union and Middlesex.

Outside New York City, the principal municipalities in-
cluded in Economic New York, with their population according
to the state census of 1915, are: Newark, 367,000; Jersey City,
271,000; Paterson, 125,000; Yonkers, 91,000; Elizabeth, 82,000;
Hoboken, 68,000; Bayonne, 64,000; and Passaic city, 61,000.
Thirteen additional municipalities had in 1915 over 20,000
inhabitants.

Some considerable places are just outside Economic New
York, as fixed by the Census Bureau, as Plainfield, West Orange,
Summit, and South Amboy. But the line had to be drawn
somewhere.

But outside the limits of Economic New York tens of thou-
sands of commuters reside. They form part of the day popula-
tion of New York City. Therefore the first of the accompanying
maps was drawn to show substantially all the territory within
an hour by train of New York’s business district. The territory
shown on the map might be unified under the term “‘ Commuter
New York,” or the “‘ New York Metropolitan District.”

Fairfield is the only county which lies partly outside the
Metropolitan District, as delimited on the accompanying map,
and represented in the following tables. Its towns are included
only as far as Norwalk. But the entire counties of Westchester,
Passaic, Morris, Somerset, Middlesex, and Monmouth are in-
cluded, although their outer reaches are cut off on the map.
Parts of Suffolk, Orange, and Mercer happen to be shown on
the map, although they are here excluded from the Metropolitan
District.

Some of the counties of the Metropolitan District were not
in existence prior to the middle of the nineteenth century. But
through our possessing census figures for the individual town-
ships which were later combined to form the county, it is pos-
sible to arrive at the population of the present county areas
decades before the organization of the counties. In the few
cases where townships have at some time been split up between
two counties, only approximate county figures are available for
the earlier censuses. Moreover, for 1790, separate figures were
never tabulated for all townships. It has therefore been neces-
sary to divide the 1790 population of some of the counties that

406 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

lie partly within and partly without Economic New York, be-
tween the “Inner” and the “ Outer” portions on the basis of
the actual ratios of the “Inner” to the “ Outer” population in
1800 (or even 1820, where earlier township figures are not
available), taking into consideration, naturally, the actual rate

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of growth of the county as a whole during the intercensal period.
As none of the areas for which estimates must be made for
1790 had yet been invaded by Economic New York commuters,
the hypothesis employed probably gives results not far from the
unrecorded facts.

The 1915 population of southwest Fairfield has been esti-

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790

407

mated on the basis of its increase from 1900 to 1910, Connecti-
cut not having taken a state census.

POPULATION OF NEW YORK METROPOLITAN DISTRICT
Division 1790 1820 1850 1880 1910
New York City .......... 49,401 152,056 696,115 1,911,698 4,766,883
Mirena ee oon kee 33,131 123,706) 515,547 | 1,164,673 | 2,331,542
SROTGe Se eee eae 1,781 2,782 8,032 51,980 430,980
[Bava lldhiann on Oye clomeareee 4,495 11,187} 138,882. 599,495 | 1,634,351
CWIeCeN Se fe > oe os 6,159 8,246 18,593 56,559, 284,041
TRUiGlover (oy atc heey cre EeeNANG 3,835 6,135 15,061 38,991 85,969
Outer Ring ...... ....| 37,520 | 56,758} 142,354) 578,947 1,707,685 1
In New York State .... 13,003. 18,176 28,042 70,334 229,941
Inner Westchester .. . 3,148 4,903 9,802 36,319 146,011
INARS ALIAS ive chia: = 9,855 13,273 18,240 34,015 83,930
In New Jersey......... 24,517. 38,582) 114,312 508,613 1,477,744
Hudson County ..... 1,944| 3,137 21,822 187,944 537,231
Inner Bergen........ 3,202) o.216 8,903 28,037 102,493
Imner Passaic ....... 2,066 3,338 14,275 60,748 195,992
WNNersPSSex.. . 2. 22. 7,718 | 12,422 50,178 180,233 488,120
Inner Union, .2..... .. 5,834 9,385 12,128 42,744 107,053
Inner Middlesex. ... . 3,673 5,024 7,006, | 8,907 46,855
TOTAL, ECONOMIC fae Prime.
INDE} Wee OR Best cutis Si.3 86,921 !208,814 838,469 2,490,645 6,474,568
OUTSIDE COMMUTER 7
DISMARC... 94,967 133,373 202,188 344,983 646,531
East of Hudson ey .| 29,014 | 36,7 777 57,674, 100,974 210,500
Outer Westchester... 19,519 25,57: 573 41, 533 65,880 Hey, 044
Southwest Fairfield .. 9,495 11,204 16,141 35,094 73,456
West of Hudson River.. 65,953 96,596 144,514. 244,009 436,031 _
Outer Bergen ....... -2-|{ .5,822| 8,744] 35,509
‘a ) PH; 2 ~- :
Outer Passaic ....... 6,047 9,725 \ 8,294 8,112 19,910
Outer‘Wssex.... 2... 1,915| 3,076 6,036 9,696 24,766
Outer Union ........ 1,580) 2,572 5,608 12,827 33,144
Outer Middlesex..... 9,445) 12,818 21,629 43,379 67,571
Rockland ss -.2....3.2- heoco lk Sisor 16,962 27,690 46,873
IVIOUTISHE Gry ceiaes. >. 16,216 21,368 30,158 50,861 74,704
Somes Jao needeeoe 12,296 16,506 19,692 27,162 38,820
Monmouth.......... 15,125 21,694 30,313 55,538 94,734
TOTAL, METROPOLI- : rx ~ F
SANG M Os ekeh@ur =. %, 181,888 1,040,657

By “Outer Ring”

8 342,187

2,835,628

7,121,099

1915
5,047,221
2,137,747

615,600
1,798.513
396,727

* 98, 634
L, 929,183
296,284
179,459
116,825
1,632,899
sy ia les
132,786
209,790
534,842
124,209
59,901

6,976,404

Nm) w
La |
3
Zia

Or}| - bos
4 1] 2
Cul Ot! On

He | GO
i

ye

$4,815
46,903
$1,514
44,123
107,636

7,713,783

in the following tables is meant the terri-

tory outside the municipality of New York, but included by the
It includes nearly all
the land area within about ten miles of the city’s boundaries.

Census Bureau in Economic New York.

Only two instances of decrease appear in the table.

MANHATTAN

DECLINING

Man-

hattan declined from 1910 to 1915, and Outer Passaic from 1850
to 1880. The latter was not actual, being due to the slicing off

408 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of portions of townships for annexation to Paterson. But Man-
hattan’s decline was actual, although probably not on as large a
scale as the 1915 census indicates. The state’s canvass of the
latter year was probably not thorough. Manhattan’s popula-
tion will continue to decrease uninterruptedly, because nearly
all its building plots are already occupied by structures, and the
tearing down of dwellings to make room for commercial and
manufacturing buildings goes on rapidly. The corresponding
“ Central Area” of London—which happens to contain approxi-
mately the same number of square miles as Manhattan—has
been steadily declining in resident population since 1861.

RELATIVE GROWTH OF VARIOUS DIVISIONS OF THE METROPOLITAN
DISTRICT

The next table of percentages of increase shows to better
advantage the relative growth of the various components of
the Metropolitan District.

In the case of the five Jersey counties nearest New York
City, it is necessary to enter, for the growth from 1790 to
1820, the actual rate for the combined area of the present coun-
ties. In 1790, that area formed only two counties, Bergen and
Essex, and township figures are not available, or else the
boundaries of the townships crossed present county lines.
Later, Union split off from Essex, and Hudson from Bergen,
while Passaic was formed from parts of Essex and Bergen.
Likewise from 1820 to 1850, it is necessary to give a combined
rate for Outer Bergen and Outer Passaic. In 1820 the latter
formed part of the former, and through the subsequent splitting
up of townships between the two, it was not possible to com-
pute separate figures for the two areas for 1820.

NEW YORK’S POPULATION AND THE ERIE CANAL

There is a statistical law for population aggregations of
considerable size: The larger the aggregation becomes, the
slower the rate of growth. A glance at the table shows that this
holds true for the municipality of New York except for the
period, 1820 to 1850. This violation of the statistical law, and
the tremendous advance in New York City’s rate of growth
from 1820 to 1850 over the preceding 30-year period, is due
almost entirely to the opening of the Erie Canal in 1825. On
account of mountain ridges, it was not possible to connect, by
canal, any other Atlantic port of the United States with the
great central prairie food reservoir of the country and the rich

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790 409

PER CENT. INCREASE

11790 to 1820 to 1850 to 1880 to 1910 to

Division 1820 1850 1880 1910 1915
egy Tonle Cina. 6 50 - Gays re 208 =358 175 149 0?
NIIP Piee aoe ay Sebel eee 273 317 126 100 Ds
ISSNSiES TS Lee ak bn oo ond Oe ee 56 189 547 729 43
Boo ivitt Gosdak Ue Seok See 149 1,141 332 173 10
DUTIES 26§, toh sSibgc Se ane ee eee 34 125 204 402 40
TEL eto Ml ae. oes aria Sits EE ee 60 145 159 120 15
Onan TERE 0 Se ~ 51 |. 151 | 307| 195 13
lia ING Pa onde SS 1 es, Oe 40 54 151 j 227 29
Mrre re VWCSUGNEStCE Ye: <<. cee cers « os svnics ve 56 100 271 302 23
INDIE ok lo ioe es Ae eee eee 35 37 86 147 39
Ln SIMO GIES Ne a Oe Oe 57 | 196 345 191 10
Tei dizarn (Cyn Rise gees cme Rear ee ae ) 596 761 186 6
CULINES U2 22th e ey ek aii es a reer | | 69 | 215 266 30
LEASE [POSS EIIO BG ia iad) Pe are r 61 | 4 328 326 223 7
iinep Des ike. Se ae ee eee eee ee 304 259 171 10
LETS? (UT ee ena ener ) | 29 | 252 150 16
igarlere lan dieses. Sei. yr" ee te. ee ee < £y 36 if 39 27 426 28 ’
TOTAL, ECONOMIC NEW YORK...:...... _ 140 | 302 197 160 8
OUTSIDE COMMUTER DISTRICT......... pS eee ier 87 14
BASORSENIGCSOMMRAV ED. < vios Sco hs cS a he ess 27 57 75— 108 ff
WiInteIVMESLCHEStets. o- f. apc be ee see 31 62 59 108 4
Soutmwesihamhelds. <2 .2020..2. elas... 18 44 Az 109 13
WWesimOnmenGsOneRIVEL. «2.26 2. oe'es s... be sare 46| 50|} 69! 79 Ly
ED ESS ) \ 45 |{ 50 | 306 29
(CUHgie TEDSSriC sje er a ( 61 | esr | \ D2 145 33
(OvSTIGis LDS ise se SiS AA | 96 61 155 27
OU TMUL OME ee esp ntsey e syoge = alee aiSra's a eke ois ) 118 | 129) 158 30
Wager dlesexers 60s oe sac ng ete hos 36 69 101 56 26
Riot cing 15 220 Mbay Soa) ea a 165 92 63 69 00
IM Marmtigi. 62 Seg 2 ee 32 41 69 47 9
SURGING. We Bake SA ee ee 34 19 38 43 14
WORBITEPTCTEN NE ee Re ae aon 40 83 70 ie
TOTAL, METROPOLITAN DISTRICT...... ine 88 204 172 151 8
New York State outside Metropolitan District. . . 306 | 97 30 31 eee
New Jersey outside Metropolitan District ....... 57 63 64 65 11
United States, excluding outlying possessions.... 145 141 116 83 —

forests of the basin of the Great Lakes. Until 1865, the Erie
Canal gave New York practically a monopoly of the wholesale
supply. trade and the tremendous export trade in food and
forest-products of this great interior basin, embracing the
American half of the valley of the Great Lakes, and particu-
larly the upper half of the Mississippi valley.

New Yorkers should not begrudge any tax burdens due to
the Erie Canal. It has already contributed billions of wealth to
New Yorkers those living outside the city as well as within
—and made the city’s population to-day double what it would
have been if the canal had never been built. The canal will con-
tribute billions more of money to New Yorkers, and continue

410 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

to boost tremendously New York’s growth in population, if the
federal government can be persuaded to cease imposing freight
charges upon the canal such as cripple its inherent power to
draw traffic from the railroads.

Economic New York and the entire Metropolitan District do
not conform to the statistical law mentioned even to the extent
that the municipality does because of the effect of the city’s
surging population spilling over into the neighboring areas out-
side the city limits.

RATE WARS AND NEW YORK’S GROWTH

The decline in New York’s rate of growth is far more pro-
nounced from 1850 to 1880 than for the succeeding 30-year
period. This is because unified trunk railroads over the Appa-
lachians from the middle west to the Atlantic ports date only
from 1865. Immediately the bitterest rate wars broke out be-
tween these trunk lines, and lasted almost continuously until
1880. These rate wars largely nullified New York’s unique posi-
tion among the Atlantic ports of the United States in possessing
an all-water route and a water-level rail route to the middle
west. Trunk railroads tributary to Philadelphia, Baltimore,
Norfolk and Newport News, though having to climb over sev-
eral mountain ridges—as compared with no mountain ridges
for New York via the gaps in these ridges through which the
Hudson and the Mohawk rivers pass—offered to carry export
freight from the middle west at less than cost in order to build
up their own traffic, and knock in the head the natural flow of
rail-borne, as well as water-borne, commerce to New York. For
Nature had favored in every way the location of our city to be-
come the site of the metropolis and commercial capital of the
Western Continent, and ultimately of the world.

As a consequence of these rate wars depriving New York
of a large share of the trade that would naturally flow to it, a
damper was put on New York’s growth in population from 1850
to 1880, notwithstanding the vastly increased foreign immigra-
tion during that period.

EFFECT OF FREIGHT DIFFERENTIALS

And when the rate wars finally ceased, in came the Inter-
state Commerce Commission, and established freight rates in
favor of the four ports named, so that they could fatten—grow
in trade and consequently in population—at the expense of
little Old New York.

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790 411

Although the actual cost of transporting a carload of grain
from St. Louis or Chicago to one of the ports named is greater
than to New York, the Interstate Commerce Commission, for
more than a quarter of a century, has granted these four ports
a lower rate than New York’s! New York’s rail distance from
Chicago or St. Louis is close to one hundred miles greater than
in the case of these four ports, but the route is practically all
level, and even largely down grade, as compared with close to a
hundred miles of heavy ascending grades for its four rivals.
The time of transit to New York is less than to its rival ports.

New York’s population growth has truly been phenomenal.
But it would have been even greater if it were not for the differ-
entials established by the Commission named. The federal gov-
ernment has in general manifested antagonism to its metropolis
and greatest port. It has resorted to a number of artificial ex-
pedients to nullify New York’s unique natural advantages, de-
centralize the nation’s export trade, which Nature ordained
should be concentrated at the mouth of the Hudson, and build
up New York’s rival ports at the latter’s expense.

RICHMOND’S LAG

The percentage table shows that Manhattan and Brooklyn’s
rates of growth have continuously decreased since 1850, while
those of the Bronx and Queens continuously increased from
1790 to 1910. Richmond is the only borough which has, without
exception up to 1910, increased at a rate below that for the city
as a whole. (It should be remembered that the present divi-
sions of the Metropolitan District have been carried back to
1790.) Richmond’s rate for the past century in its entirety has
been much below that of the other boroughs, as well as of the
Jersey divisions of Economic New York. While Richmond sur-
passed the Bronx in population up until after the middle of the
nineteenth century, in 1915 it contained less than one sixth as
many inhabitants. Though much nearer New York’s business
center in miles, its insular position and lack of rapid transit
have caused it to fall hopelessly behind.

EFFECTS OF INVENTION OF STEAMBOAT

The most notable increase in the percentage table, that of
Brooklyn from 1820 to 1850 (1,141 per cent.) was due to the
displacement of rowing and horse-treadmill ferries by steam
ferries about 1810. New York business men refused to make
their homes across the narrow East River in Brooklyn until the

412 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

advent of the steam ferry set at nought the rapid current of that
tidal stream.

EFFECTS OF RAPID TRANSIT

Two of the other most remarkable increases are those of
the Bronx from 1850 to 1880 (547 per cent.), due to its invasion
by the east-side elevated railway, and from 1880 to 1910 (729
per cent.), due to the opening of the first elevated extensions of
the Interborough subway.

New York City (present area) increased much more rapidly
than its Outer Ring up to 1850. Since that year this relation
has been reversed, owing primarily to vast improvement in
facilities for getting to the west of the Hudson, first steam
ferries displacing treadmill and sailboat ferries, and later tun-
nels in large part displacing steam ferries. A factor almost
equally important was the later vast improvement in train ser-
vice, which lured many New York business men to establish
their residences in the Outer Ring.

Up to 1910, Economic New York increased far more rapidly
than the Outside Commuter District. Since that year, condi-
tions have been for the first time reversed.

New York state and New Jersey outside the Metropolitan
District have increased far less rapidly than the District.

THREE STATES BENEFIT BY THE PORT OF NEW YORK

The percentages of the population of the Metropolitan Dis-
trict residing in the different states have been as follows:

EcoNOMIC NEW YORK

1790 1820 | 1850 1880 1910 1915

News YiorkyS tatenevy aie iii wikis eae 72 82 86 sO ats Ut

ING wi erse yet settee eres aerate ee aie 28 18 14 le 20 23 23

New -York/States 2) sae eee ne reer Afe) | 160) CD | 73 3 72
New Jersey 05 38s ene came eae AS) | 370 OBI Ihe PAG) 26) lot
Connecttetitia: t,o eeee 5 3 2 1 1) i

New Jersey’s proportion steadily declined until 1850. Since
that date it has been on the increase. As already indicated, the
reason for the change in trend is the vast improvement since
1850 in facilities for getting west of the Hudson.

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790 413

NEW YORK’S RIVAL METROPOLISES

There is next presented the population growth of all other
metropolises of the world having more than 1,500,000 inhabi-
tants in 1910. But Petrograd is omitted because its published
population has rarely been the result of an actual count. Dur-
ing the entire existence of the city, only two or three censuses
have been taken. But particularly, its population has dwindled
to less than a million as a result of the World War.

For Tokio prior to 1880, only estimates by Japanese statis-
ticians are available. After 1850, Tokio became semi-depopu-
lated because it ceased to be Japan’s capital. When restored
as the capital, it more than recovered its lost ground.

In cases where the censuses of foreign metropolises were
taken in different years from those of the United States census,
the population figures have been synchronized on the assump-
tion of a uniform annual increase during the intercensal period.

POPULATION OF NEW YORK’S RIVAL METROPOLISES

City 1790 1820 1850 1880 1910

Greaterelvondon=... 5.2 ..2..-.-. 884,000 1,569,000 2,636,000 4,679,000 7,184,000
LEGS, oe bk 6 Se en eee 448,000 749,000 1,350,000 2,213,000 2,867,000
QUOD Ti ee PES nc ee en ee | ee 30,000 503,000 2,185,000
BCL Gere eee ea es cs 151,000 226,000 454,000 1,122,000 2,071,000
No) Katoh 57 9 ek ok A 1,000,000 1,500,000 1,500,000 858,000 2,062,000
VAG! 5 ae ee rr 219,000 260,000 425,000 1,137,000 2,031,000
Philadelphia age gated clete reo excrse.c 3 29,000 64,000 409,000 847,000 1,549,000
PER CENT. INCREASE
1790 to 1820 to 1859 to 1880 to

1820 1850 ISSO) 1910
GHSR RE IDC Or) 38S 5 Oe er 77 68 78 54
IPERS Sins aie & Situ, ae 67 80 64 _ 30
CIMGRS) 0652 4 A RBS Ee eT am 1,576 334
(Biehl tia oo: 5 A Ee 50 101 147 85
IGIEGD co s+ enone Re 50 00 D 43 140
\WORSIIG) > 5 cae es ee 19 63 168 79
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CHICAGO AND NEW YORK

The only metropolis of the world that has threatened to
overtake New York is Chicago. Her phenomenal increase from
1850 to 1900 truly scared the lovers and partisans of Little Old
New York. We did not want ultimately to be compelled “to go
way back and sit down.”’ We were on the anxious seat until the
1910 census returns were published. These showed an increase

414 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

for Economic Chicago for the decade just ended of 33 per cent.,
as compared with Economic New York’s 41. Hurrah again for
Little Old New York! She can’t be beaten in the long run. By
1910, Chicago had shot her arrow and fallen short of the mark,
so ardently striven for by her business men, of the premiership
among not only America’s but the world’s cities.

NEW YORK AND LONDON

But a still greater triumph fell to Little Old New York only
three years ago. And few New Yorkers have as yet heard of
it. They have been ignorant of the fact that since 1917 they
have been living not only in the largest city in the world, but
the largest this planet has ever seen.

There has been much dispute in various publications as to
whether New York or London is to-day the largest population
aggregation in the world. To settle the question definitely, the
writer has taken the trouble to compute from the census returns
for the two metropolises their population living on approxi-
mately equal land areas, the only fair basis for a comparison.
Political boundaries form an entirely artificial basis.

HACKENSACK RIVER HUDSON* RIVER
IWESTCHESTER

tmiees

PARITAN

Economic New York: New York City embracing the boroughs of Manhattan, The
Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens and Richmond; Outer Ring embracing Hudson County entire,
and parts of Westchester, Bergen, Passaic, Essex, Union and Middlesex. Manhattan
south of Fulton Street (shaded) corresponds to London “city” (Cy.). The Census
Bureau includes Nassau, but this county is here omitted in order to make the two
areas approximately equal.

Metropolitan Police District of London: Embracing the entire counties of London
and Middlesex and parts of Hertfordshire, Essex, Surrey and Kent.

Moreover, it is not generally known that the population of
London, as usually published, is not for any political entity. It
is the combined population of numerous cities, boroughs, and

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790 415

towns lying within a radius of eighteen miles—roughly speak-
ing—of the center of London Bridge. Just as Economic New
York, as delimited by the federal Census Bureau, is an aggrega-
tion of cities, boroughs, and towns.

Some pseudo-statisticians, in their defense of London, have
taken Economic London on both sides of the Thames to com-
pare with only that portion of Economic New York which lies
on one side of: the Hudson!

London and its suburbs happen to have a unified police ad-
ministration, just as New York did half a century ago, but soon
abandoned. The population ‘‘of London” generally published
is for its Metropolitan Police District. The correponding area
for us Knickerbockers is Economic New York. But the limits
established by the Census Bureau make Economic New York
cover 271 more land square miles than does the Metropolitan
Police District of London. In order to make the areas approxi-
mately equal, I have omitted Nassau County entire from the
comparison, because it is the least densely populated large sec-
tion of Economic New York. This omission gives London the
advantage over New York by 3 land square miles. Further,
Economic New York, exclusive of Nassau, contains to-day 95
square miles of uninhabitable salt marsh, while London con-
tains practically no uninhabitable land. This gives London
an additional considerable advantage in the comparison—at
least ten per cent.

I have computed from the census reports for the two areas
described the records, since the beginning of the nineteenth cen-
tury, of the two contestants in the race for the premiership
among the cities of the world.

GROWTH OF THE METROPOLITAN POLICE DISTRICT OF LONDON
(693 LAND S@. MI.)

Total, Metropolitan Police

County of London Outer Ring e
District
Census Year | ; ¢ a -
s Per Cent. F Yer Cent : Per Cent.
Population Ine. Population ma Population Inc

nS Cie, 959,310 —_— 155,334 —S= 1,114,644 _
de} bl aay ereeesie 1,139,355 18.4 184,544 18.4 1,323,899 1s.4
S52 ee ao 1,379,543 PAN GI 216,808 17.5 1,596,351 20.6
Ie Bl seg om Ul 1,655,582 20.0 247,990 14.4 1,903,572 19.2
SAE ea 1,949,277 Lee? 286,067 15.4 2,235,344 17.4
SHAS 52: 2,363,341 21.6 317,594 11.2 2,680,935 20.3
TSBs ai 20 2,808,494 18.8 414,226 30.4 3,222,720 20.2
TSA as.:, Seve | 3,261,396 16.2 624,245 50.8 3,885,641 20.6
SS eS 3,830,297 17.4 936,364 50.0 4,766,661 22.7
SOIL er. 220 4.227 ,954 10.4 1,405,852 50.1 5,633,806 18.2
100 (0) eee 4,536,267 tas 2,045,135 45.5 6,581,402 16.8

3o0 7,251,358 10.2

MSN cere ae \- 4,521,685 | DO0.3 2,729,673

| =

416 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

On the basis of the annual increase during the latest inter-
censal period, I have computed the following estimates:

GROWTH OF ECONOMIC NEW YORK (EXCL. OF NASSAU) (690 LAND Sq. M1.)

Present Limits of New York oyter Ring (Exel. Nassau) Total Economic New York

City (Excl. Nassau)
Census rr ie oe x =
Population fos Population eG Population re eee
1S0G Seer 79,216 — ————— — ——— -—
ISTO eS as, ab 119,734 51.1 —— —
1820) ges 152,056 27.0 43,485 — 195,541 —
tS30Ros. 242,278 59.3 56,227 29.3 298,505 52.7
1S4007 391,114 61.4 78.451 39.5 469,565 51,3
FS5O as wks 696,115 78.0 124,114 58.2 820,229 74.7
FSCO ee, 1,174,779 68.8 241,632 94.7 1,416,411 TET
S70. 1,478,103 25.8 396,633 64.1 1,874,736 32.4
LSS0ee- 2. 1,911,698 29.3 544,932 37.4 2,456,630 31.0
LEGO eae 2,507,414 31.2 780,089 43.2 3,287,503 33.8
1SOO TF x2 3,437,202 Biel 1,115,154 43.0 4,552,356 38.5
T91O oe 4,766,883 38.7, 1,628,755 45.6 6,390,638 40.4
= — j= = ——e SS or =
Year County of London Outer Ring Sh etre Ree
NOM ye araryas oan wate 4,515,853 3,003,489 7,519,342
AOU G so ane eae lee 4,514,395 3,071,943 7,586,338
dS Nt Ye Pad Sn ce Arete 4,512,937 | 3,140,397 7,653,334
LODO Soran Tes or ee 4,511,479 | 3,208,851 7,720,330
LOG cecorneyn ci ere ee 4,510,021 3,277,305 7,787,326
TODO sia Sn Peter aces 4,508,563 3,345,759 7,894,322
————_——— = = —————— = —————
Year New York City Ue aeai, 2 wore Geen
MOD Aetorc spscte toes os ot 5,431,723 1,878,055 7,309,778
POV GE rere ape oe eee 5,564,691 1,928,915 7,493,606
TOUT SRA eae er 5,697,659 1,979,775 7,677,434
BOB esate ed cn ee mee 5,830,627 2,030,635 7,861,262
a A [19 es Aas ene RS stn 5,963,595 2,081,495 8,045,090
2,132,355 8,228,918

MOBO eis Ao Aone are 6,096,563

There is hardly room for the slightest doubt that New York,
at the latest in 1920, has overtaken London, on the basis of equal
land areas. Both cities were hard hit by the war, and thus the
actual population increase of both, subsequently to its outbreak,
will probably be found, when the returns of the forthcoming
censuses are tabulated, to lag considerably behind what would
be expected on the basis of the growth during the first decade
of the twentieth century. But London was immeasurably
harder hit by the war than was New York, and her growth in
population has almost certainly been retarded the more.

GROWTH OF NEW YORK AND SUBURBS SINCE 1790 4N7

SHALL THE METROPOLITAN DISTRICT ENTER THE UNION AS A
SEPARATE STATE?

This winter two bills have been introduced in the state
legislature having as their object to set off New York City, to-
gether with several of the near-by counties of the state, as a
separate member of the federal Union. If the metropolis and
suburbs should ever enter the Union as a separate state, it
should include, for both economic and political reasons, the com-
muter areas of New Jersey and Connecticut, as well as those of
New York state. Particularly the development of port facilities
lags because of the divided state jurisdiction. But this great
defect will probably be remedied in a few years by the recently
organized New York-New Jersey Port and Harbor Development
Commission.

If the Metropolitan District, as delimited in this article,
should become a separate state, its present New York state and
New Jersey inhabitants, respectively, would no longer be bur-
dened with paying the vast bulk of the state taxes of both
commonwealths. But just because Economic New York is
compelled to play “‘ Lady Bountiful” to the outside areas of the
two states, the latter’s representatives in the state legislatures
would never consent to a separation. On the other hand, the
legislators from the Metropolitan District might be able ulti-
mately to outvote the more or less rural Solons. In 1915, 57
per cent. of New York state’s population resided in the Metro-
politan District, and 74 per cent. of New Jersey’s.

There is the sentimental reason that the splitting up of New
York state would cause the latter to lose its primacy among
the states in population, wealth and manufactures. New York
has enjoyed the distinction of being the ‘Empire State,” be-
ginning with 1820.

If the Metropolitan District had been a separate state in
1910 (the year of the latest published federal census returns),
it would have been exceeded in population by only one state,
Pennsylvania, which then had 7,665,000 inhabitants, as com-
pared with the Metropolitan District’s 7,121,000. The re-
mainder of New York state, with close to its present area, would
have had a population of only 3,933,000, and ranked fourth
among the states. The population of the remnant of New
Jersey, although still including the vast bulk of its area, would
have been only 670,000. Instead of eleventh rank among the
states, New Jersey would have dropped to thirty-sixth.

But in 1929 the new state of “‘South New York” (as it would

VOL X1.—27.

418 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

be logically named, rather than ‘‘ Manhattan ” or “‘ Greater New
York,” as proposed in the two bills before the legislature) would
itself become the Empire State, since its estimated population,
on the basis of growth from 1880 to 1910, would then be 9,838,-
000, as compared with Pennsylvania’s 9,812,000.

But there are also material objections to the Metropolitan
District’s becoming a separate state. Things that happen up-
state, such as the building of canals, railways, aqueducts, auto-
mobile roads, the regulation of dairy farms, etc., possess a vital
interest for Gothamites, and have a marked bearing on the lat-
ter’s health and happiness and chase for the “almighty dollar.”
It is very desirable that Gothamites retain their ‘“‘ say,” and
particularly their votes, in the transactions in Albany’s legis-
lative halls.

EDUCATION AND LEARNING IN AMERICA 419

EDUCATION AND LEARNING IN AMERICA

By Professor ARTHUR GORDON WEBSTER

CLARK UNIVERSITY

T is well known that we in the United States spend more
i upon education than any other country. What do we get
for it? Are the returns in any way commensurate with the
enormous sums expended? Does the number of institutions
calling themselves colleges and universities to the neighborhood
of perhaps 400 insure us and the community that it has the
highest standards of learning or even appreciates it? I think
there is no doubt that the answer to this question will be in the
negative. We have been accustomed to flatter ourselves that
the common schools are an American invention. We have no
peasants in this country and we think that the average of
education and intelligence is very high. And yet we find as a
result of the psychological tests made upon about three million
men in our Army that the average mental age of the soldier
was about 1314 years. The officers were very good, it is true,
but were chosen to a large degree from persons who had had
the advantage of a college education. To that extent it is credit-
able to the colleges. But we have still to examine the question
of the efficiency of the work of the colleges.

Last summer, while on a mission to France, largely educa-
tional in character, I was frequently at the Sorbonne. I found
in passing through the great court of the new Sorbonne one day
that it was full of young persons of the two sexes, and to my
question, ‘Qui sont ces bébés?” the reply was made, “C’est
pour le baccalauréat.” There were young girls with curls down
their back and I saw one boy with bare knees in the uniform of
a boy scout. One must remember that the “ baccalauréat”’ cor-
responds not merely to the finishing of the high school, but to
perhaps the first two years of college, and you can imagine my
astonishment. I said, “‘ And will these boys be prepared for the
Ecole Polytechnique [a school of the standard which I regard
as the highest in the world] in four years?” “They will be
ready in three years, monsieur.” Let us remember that the
Polytechnique is the school open to intending officers who have
passed an extremely drastic examination for entrance. A
friend of mine, Général Ferrié, who is in command of all the

420 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

French army telegraphs, told me that in the year he was ad-
mitted, out of 1,200 candidates 200 were admitted. Ask your-
self whether there is any school in the United States of which
merely to be a member is a distinguished honor, or which im-
poses for its membership any such qualification, and I have no
doubt as to the answer.

In a recent newspaper President Eliot is quoted as attack-
ing West Point. And the paper the next day says that it is pro-
posed that a resolution be introduced into Congress to examine
the curriculum. It is not the curriculum at West Point that
needs examination. It is something far deeper.

In an article written by a professor in last December’s
Atlantic Monthly is an extremely good picture of a faculty
meeting and its futility. Everybody is bored. No one can make
a decision. Nothing is accomplished. Everybody goes away
disgusted. I have seen such faculty meetings and I have seen
such professors. Fortunately I do not belong to one. My thirty
years have been thirty years of almost unmitigated pleasure
and enjoyment, full of the joy of living, and marred only by th-
difficulty of making both ends meet and of finding the money
either to finance my department or to get along with the small
appropriations that have been available. But sweet are the
uses of adversity (and university). I have learned to do it.

A few months ago, at a meeting of the American Academy
of Arts and Sciences in Boston, I was accosted by a friend, one
of the most learned of the members of the Harvard faculty, with
the exclamation, ‘‘ Well, Webster, I suppose you are not ashamed
of being a professor asI am.” “No,” said I, “I am proud of it.
What is the matter?” He replied, “I sat all yesterday after-
noon in a faculty meeting discussing whether the football team,
which had accomplished very little in an intellectual way during
the last few months, should be allowed to go to Pasadena to
give a gladiatorial show, and we decided that it should not.
What was my disgust to read in the morning paper that the
team was going!’’ When I heard this statement I wrote an
article commenting on it to the Harvard Alumni Bulletin, stat-
ing that I should withdraw the modest subscription that I had
made toward the fifteen million dollar fund. I said that inas-
much as no self-respecting person would wish to be a professor
at Harvard it would be unnecessary to have a fund to raise their
salaries. The letter has as yet drawn forth no comment.

Some dozen years ago the Nobel Prize of about forty thou-
sand dollars was awarded to Professor A. A. Michelson, the
great physicist of the University of Chicago and my predecessor

EDUCATION AND LEARNING IN AMERICA 421

where lam. His colleagues at that institution were so delighted
that they prepared to honor him by giving a banquet to which
scientists in all parts of the country were invited. I was much
pleased to be included and should certainly have gone had limi-
tations of time and money not prevented. Later on, the same
prize came to Professor Theodore W. Richards, the distin-
guished chemist of Harvard. Meeting him one day, I said,
“Richards, what did they do for you in Cambridge?” “Do for
me?” said he, seeming to misunderstand the import of my
question. “I had some very nice notes.” “Do you mean,” said
I, “that they did nothing in public to show the appreciation of
the honor which you had received?” “No,” said he. Whether
this is characteristic of the difference between the effete East
and the hustling, wide-awake Middle West I do not know. I
merely know that when the victorious football team referred to
returned from Pasadena it was given a banquet to show the
distinguished honor in which the citizens of the intellectual com-
munity of Boston and Harvard held it.

Such stories as these are but symptoms. They are straws
to show which way the wind blows. They would be possible in
no other country than the United States. To be sure, we are a
democracy. We believe that all men are created equal. There
may be some who believe that men stay equal and there may be
some who wish them to stay equal. I am not one of that num-
ber. We do not wear silk buttons on our coats, nor do we as a
rule attach letters to our names. We do not become privy coun-
selors, “‘ wirkliche” or other, and we eschew all apparent marks
of distinction. Sometimes we form exclusive societies to which
we select a supposedly learned élite. It is cruelly said by out-
siders, and sometimes by insiders, that the chief purpose of
getting into such societies is to keep others out. However, this
I do not wish to discuss.

Now, what is the reason for this state of affairs? It is
frequently said that it is because the country is new. How new
is it? If I am not mistaken, the United States is the oldest
republic in the world, with the exception of San Marino and
Andorra. For considerably over a century we have had a large
measure of political freedom and an unexampled degree of pros-
perity. Ever since the close of the Civil War, with rare excep-
tions, we have had such a degree of prosperity that it has been
possible for almost everybody to have a college education, with
the result that our educational institutions are full of the most
mediocre intellects, persons who, in the words of our Atlantic
professor, really ought to be plumbers or something of an even
less intellectual status.

422 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

A college is looked upon, according to the statement of Pro-
fessor Lightner Witmer, of the University of Pennsylvania, at
a meeting of the American Philosophical Society, as a country
club somewhat marred by attendance at recitations. Many of
the colleges are no more than schools of a somewhat superior
gerade, and it is very noticeable that students and even pro-
fessors coming from the South and West almost uniformly refer
to the college as a school. And the phrase, ‘‘ When will school
open?” is most familiar.

The young man writing the prize essay on Harvard is frankly
of the opinion that the so-called men at Harvard are treated like
school boys, that facts are poured into them, that only their
memory is made use of, that they are not taught to think and
reason for themselves. The trouble again, in my opinion, is
not with the institution, the system, the professors, but with the
community. When going to college is looked upon as the culmi-
nation of a social career or preparation for the same, when the
boy or girl can say, ‘I don’t have to work; father will pay,” it
is a sign that something is wrong with the community. When
the woman who comes in to do the washing asks the head of
the family what her husband does and she says, “‘ He is a min-
ister,” and the washerwoman says, “Oh, of course, I don’t
blame him; he has got to do something,” as I heard told recently,
it is very obvious that something is wrong.

In this country the only criterion of success is the amount of
money that a person has made. Two years ago, having done
a little profiteering, I bought a modest automobile. One day
when I was taking a young lady, a friend of my daughter’s, out
to drive, I said to her. ‘“‘ People think much more of me now
that I have an automobile.” ‘Oh, yes, Dr. Webster,” she re-
sponded. This was a graduate of one of our leading colleges
for women, a very bright young woman indeed. And yet she
immediately fell for my jocular remark.

How is it that boys and girls of fifteen and sixteen in France
can pass the examinations for entrance at the Sorbonne? Are
they brighter than our boys and girls? No. But they look upon
education as a serious business. They look upon an educated
man as a superior person. They consider the chief aim of man
not to be the accumulation of a certain number of millions of »
francs, but the accomplishment of some creative task. In Paris
it is not the fat profiteers riding about in limousines who at-
tract the attention of the people. It is the members of the In-
stitut, the great men of literature, science or art. Rightly does
Paris call herself ‘‘la ville Lumiére.” France is still ‘‘ la grande

EDUCATION AND LEARNING IN AMERICA 423

nation.” After a residence of any length of time in Paris, how
tame seems life in the most attractive American city!

Last summer I visited by far the greater majority of the
universities in France. I found the laboratories extremely
meager, often in dark rooms, in old-fashioned buildings, the
equipment very limited. But the spirit was splendid. Not in
vain have fellowships for Americans going to French universi-
ties been founded, for there shall they find the true spirit of
learning. At Nancy I was personally conducted by the rector
over the university and adjacent parts of the city. He took me
to the Lycée Henri Poincaré. Before the door stood a bronze
statue of the great mathematician, probably the greatest intel-
lect of the latter half of the nineteenth century. We passed
into the court. ‘Ce n’est pas gai,” said the director. No, it is
not gay. The life of the French lycéen is slavery. Immured
within the walls of the school, he is seldom let out except under
the surveillance of an instructor. His life is extremely dreary.
But they produce the goods. They do not go out for the team;
they do not go out for the crew, or for the paper, or for the
Glee Club, or for the theatrical profession. They go in for study
and hard labor. They consider that learning is an end in itself
and are not continually asking, ‘‘Why do I hafter do this?”
The only thing that father wants is that his son shall become a
distinguished man.

The trouble with education in the United States is with the
community, with the fathers and mothers, who do not insist that
their children shall do anything that requires exactitude, stick
to it and not let up until they get it done. A few days ago my
assistant in the laboratory was doing some computation with
the calculating machine. I said to him, “It is a shame that you
should be turning that coffee-mill; we ought to be able to get
some boy from the college to do it.” I inquired of the college
professor of mathematics. He said, “There is not much use,
because nobody now learns to do anything carefully and get an
exact result.” If a boy multiplies two by three and gets five,
of course that is pretty near, it is the next number, but that is
hardly what we want. Colleges have again and again changed
their standard, making more and more subjects elective, until
now nobody has to do anything that is very difficult simply for
the purpose of training the mind, and I regret to say that psy-
chologists have done more to spread the idea that there is no
subject that trains the mind for anything else, an opinion which
I do not hold in the slightest. If I had my way, no one should
graduate from college unless he knew at least what the infini-

424 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tesimal calculus was and what it was for, what relation its in-
vention bore to the history of thought in general, and a few
matters of similar import which should be a part of the intel-
lectual equipment of every educated adult. But boys in college
are not adults. I sometimes wonder whether “old grads” are
adults, either. I have recently heard the opinion expressed that
without alcoholic stimulant it will be impossible to hold reunions
at Commencement. When I once protested at being regaled ai
a meeting of a local Harvard Club with a talk by a football
eoach on the maneuvers of that interesting game, I was asked
what other subject there was which was of common interest to
college graduates. I replied that in that case I thought the
colleges should close.

If we turn to the Army and Navy the case is even worse.
The criticisms made by President Eliot on West Point are emi-
nently sound. We have at any rate at the top of our colleges a
number of universities where the élite students may engage in
graduate work and where much of the work done is of first
quality. A very large amount of scientific research is now done
in the United States, much of it comparing very well with work
that is done anywhere else. But inthe Army and Navy we have
nothing of the sort. Boys are admitted to West Point or
Annapolis, for I shall speak of the two on like footing, who
have the merest fragment of elementary education, and in four
years they are supposed to be turned out complete officers and
gentlemen. If it is considered that part of their course consists
of so much mathematics as to take them through the elements
of the calculus, it may easily be guessed how deep this knowl-
edge must be.

Within the last few years I have personally visited both the
Naval Academy at Annapolis and the Military Academy at
West Point, and during the five years of my membership in that
at first much over-advertised and lately too much forgotten in-
stitution the Naval Consulting Board of the United States I
have had the opportunity of meeting many officers of both ser-
vices. These officers are always extremely agreeable gentiemen,
accustomed to the handling of men and thoroughly competent
in the ordinary duties of their stations. They are all alike in
one thing, however. They have been deprived of the opportuni-
ties of a really superior education. Army and Navai officers
do not as a rule originate ideas, nor do they contribute to the
advancement of science even in their own professions. In
France, Germany or Italy it is no rarity to see shoulder straps
at scientific meetings. In the United States it is almost un-

EDUCATION AND LEARNING IN AMERICA 425

heard of. I donot need to mention Napoleon’s general Monge who
invented the science of descriptive geometry, or Poncelet, who
while confined in a Russian prison discovered the projective
properties of figures. A long line of French and Italian officers
have contributed advances not only to mathematics, but to many
of the other sciences. I speak of mathematics, being one of the
most difficult, first.

The contribution of the Ecole Polytechnique to the winning
of the war was enormous. A French general said to me, “ Sans
la Polytechnique, nous ne leussions pas fait.” It was noticeable
that during the war it was necessary to call in a large body of
professors of mathematics, physics, chemistry, to say nothing of
psychology and other subjects, from the universities. These
supposedly cloistered individuals contributed in very large
measure to the winning of the war, many of them working their
galvanometers and other laboratory instruments under German
shell fire at the front and winning distinguished honors for so
doing. Even the regular Army and Navy were grateful. As
one concrete result a number of positions were created in the
Army Ordnance Department which were filled by mathema-
ticians, physicists or engineers from civil life.

During my visit to Annapolis, where I was received with
the greatest hospitality by the superintendent, who personally
conducted me all over the school, when we came to the physical
laboratory, as I am a physicist I asked some questions of the
young instructor in order to show my interest. He regretted
that he was unable to answer; excusing himself because he had
but recently come. That night at dinner I could not resist ask-
ing the superintendent, who told me that he had brought these
officers with him, whether he could make a physicist out of any
officer. ‘‘ Oh,” he replied, “‘ they had very distinguished records
at sea.” I had nothing to say, but it occurred to me that no
amount of distinction at sea would have made a physicist of me.

In the Army and Navy the theory is that anybody can teach
anything if ordered to. Of such a theory the less said the
better. It is high time that this country had a college in which
a few élite officers of both the Army and Navy could study to-
gether the superior portions of the technical branches of their
subjects. They should have as professors the most distin-
guished scientific men that the country can afford. They need
not necessarily wear chickens on their shoulders. It is high
time that the feeling of self-sufficiency which impregnates offi-
cers of the regular military establishments should be somewhat
dissipated. They may as well learn that occasionally a person

426 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

not in uniform can give them some advice. It is not so many
years ago that a committee from West Point visited the leading
colleges of the country and on returning to West Point made
the report that they had learned nothing and saw nothing to
change. It is to be hoped that the large number of officers who
went to Europe during the war and mingled with the officers
of other armies may have had their eyes somewhat opened.
But, as far as I can learn, the great majority not only of the
doughboys, but even of the officers, made no attempt to learn
French and did not find out very much about the differences in
French ways of education from ours. Still they undoubtedly
learned something.

What suggestions can now be made of a positive character
for the amelioration of a condition that must shock all those
who actually learn the truth? In the first place, the removal of
our self-satisfaction. We are not the best educated nation in
the world. We do not produce the most original ideas in learn-
ing or in invention. We are, to be sure, extremely quick and
facile, and that is one of our weaknesses. It is easy to leave
a thing until the necessity arises, and then to jump at it and
doit. Inthat way the war was won. But in the case of another
war, which God forbid, we shall have many of the things to do
over in the same slipshod and backward way. Secondly, we
must dispel the illusion that the chief thing in life is to have a
good time, an expression which, as I recently heard a charming
young Frenchwoman say in a lecture, does not exist in French.
Youth is the time for work; youth is the time for beginning to
learn. But manhood is the time for the appreciation of iearn-
ing, for the appreciation of the fact that learning is the chief
thing that distinguishes the upper classes from any other classes,
that learning has a value of its own and is, like virtue, its own
reward. Wemust improve our elementary schools which are now
in dire danger of extinction through the wretched rewards paid,
insufficient to attract competent teachers. These schools never
were good enough and now bid fair soon to fall almost to zero
level. Of course, we hope the times will soon change and com-
pensations return to something like normal. That is not enough.
There is no reason that our children should not be as thorough
as French children or that graduates of our colleges should not
be able to pass the examinations formerly set for Rhodes
scholars.

In my opinion it will be necessary to relegate the colleges
to the rank of schools and to actually limit the number of
people who go to them. The insane desire to increase and in-

EDUCATION AND LEARNING IN AMERICA 427

crease the size of our colleges must be replaced by a desire to in-
crease the quality even at the expense of numbers. What place
in civilization can be attributed to a State which does not realize
that the education of its citizens is of supreme importance to
the State, and that allows education to be supported by drives
to squeeze from the unwilling pockets of graduates of private
institutions a sum sufficient to enable their professors to main-
tain their self-respect?

In a late number of the Weekly Review is a letter from the
dean of a university of the Middle West. In it he insists upon
the importance of the knowledge at headquarters of the number
of hours spent by every professor in the classroom and of the
number of students there are associated with each professor
and with each classroom. I have been expecting this for some
time and we shall be called upon to punch clocks.

To my great good fortune I have not spent my life in any
such atmosphere. I have been so fortunate as to belong to an
institution modelled upon the great institutions abroad in which
learning, and particularly scientific learning, was looked upon
as the chief desideratum and where research was made the
chief object in view. Every member of the instructing staff
was stimulated to produce all that he could and to convey the
same feeling to every one with whom he came in contact. No
one ever came to Clark University unless he wished to become
a scholar, unless he thought that he could contribute something
to the great structure of human learning.

We hear much in these days of research councils, of organi-
zations of research, of cooperation, of organization, of efficiency,
of questionnaires, and of red tape. I hear yet of no corpora-
tions for the cooperative production of poetry, of music, of
sculpture or of painting. Of course the pupils of Rubens did
cooperate in painting so many miles of naked Dutch women, but
I suppose it was under the immediate stimulation and super-
vision of the master, and so it is possible to carry on research.
Research is not a matter of bureaus, but of enthusiasm. There
is no teacher so good, so stimulating, so productive of en-
thusiasm as the man who himself is a great contributor to
learning.

In my trip last summer I had the good fortune to make the
acquaintance of Professor Paul Sabatier, of the University of
Toulouse, who has received the Nobel Prize in chemistry and
was looked upon, as was perfectly evident, by all his colleagues
as the chief adornment of that flourishing university. Even
then there was being constructed for him a new laboratory to

425 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

accommodate those students whose influx there was due not
to athletic prowess, or pride of age, or great buildings or marble
palaces, but to the reputation of the master.

When such a spirit as this prevails in all universities of
the United States, when professors do not have to act as police-
men or judges to portion out punishments and rewards and to
spend their time in doing things that are of no importance to
the community whatever, when learning is looked upon as a
suflicient motive for engaging the attention of the best intellects,
and when those financial resources, which we command in a
degree unparalleled in the history of the known world, have |
been devoted to this cause, and when it is thought better to in-
vest twenty million of dollars in laboratories rather than in
one battleship devoted exclusively to purposes of destruction,
then possibly we may see the United States take the position
that her material success entitles her to take among the great
nations of the world.

FOSSILS AND LIFE 429

THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR THE
ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE!

FOSSILS AND LIFE

By Dr. F. A. BATHER

PRESIDENT OF THE GEOLOGICAL SECTION

OR many a long year the relatively simple mechanics of the
i vertebrate skeleton have been studied by paleontologists
and anatomists generally, and have been brought into discus-
sions on the effect of use. The investigation of the mechanical
conditions controlling the growth of organisms has recently
been raised to a higher plane by Professor D’Arcy Thompson’s
suggestive book on “Growth and Form.” These studies, how-
ever, have usually considered the structure of an animal as an
isolated machine. We have to realize that an organism should
be studied in relation to the whole of its environment, and here
form comes in as distinct from structure. That mode of ex-
pression, though loose and purely relative, will be generally
understood. By “form” one means those adaptations to the
surrounding medium, to food, to the mode of motion, and so
forth, which may vary with outer conditions while the funda-
mental structure persists. Though all structures may, conceiv-
ably, have originated as such adaptations, those which we call
“form” are, as a rule, of later origin. Similar adaptive forms
are found in organisms of diverse structure, and produce those
similarities which we know as “‘ convergence.” To take but one
simple instance from the relations of organisms to gravity. A
stalked echinoderm naturally grows upright, like a flower, with
radiate symmetry. But in the late Ordovician and in Silurian
rocks are many in which the body has a curiously flattened leaf-
like shape, in which the two faces are distinct, but the two sides
alike, and in which this effect is often enhanced by paired out-
growths corresponding in shape if not in structure. Expansion
of this kind implies a position parallel to the earth’s surface,
i.e., at right angles to gravity. The leaf-like form and the bal-
ancers are adaptations to this unusual position. Recognition
of this enables us to interpret the peculiar features of each
genus, to separate the adaptive form from the modified struc-

1 Extracts from addresses given at the Cardiff Meeting.

430 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ture, and to perceive that many genera outwardly similar are
really of quite different origin.

Until we understand the principles governing these and
other adaptations—irrespective of the systematic position of
the creatures in which they appear—we can not make adequate
reconstructions of our fossils, we can not draw correct infer-
ences as to their mode of life, and we can not distinguish the
adaptive from the fundamental characters. No doubt many of us,
whether paleontologists or neontologists, have long recognized
the truth in a general way, and have attempted to describe our
material—whether in stone or in alcohol—as living creatures;
and not as isolated specimens but as integral portions of a mo-
bile world. It is, however, chiefly to Louis Dollo that we owe
the suggestion and the example of approaching animals pri-
marily from the side of the environment, and of studying adap-
tations as such. The analysis of adaptations in those cases
where the stimulus can be recognized and correlated with its
reaction (as in progression through different media or over
different surfaces) affords sure ground for inferences concern-
ing similar forms of whose life-conditions we are ignorant.
Thus Othenio Abel (1916) has analyzed the evidence as to the
living squids and cuttle-fish and has applied it to the belemnites
and allied fossils with novel and interesting results. But from
such analyses there have been drawn wider conclusions pointing
to further extension of the study. It was soon seen that adap-
tations did not come to perfection all at once, but that harmoni-
zation was gradual, and that some species had progressed
further than others. But it by no means follows that these
represent chains of descent. The adaptations of all the organs
must be considered, and one seriation checked by another.
Thus in 1890, in sketching the probable history of certain cri-
noids, I pointed out that the seriation due to the migration of
the anal plates must be checked by the seriation due to the
elaboration of arm-structure, and so on.

In applying these principles we are greatly helped by Dollo’s
thesis of the Irreversibility of Evolution. It is not necessary
to regard this as an absolute Law, subject to no conceivable ex-
ception. It is a simple statement of the facts as hitherto ob-
served, and may be expressed thus:

1. In the course of race-history an organism never returns
exactly to its former state, even if placed in conditions of exist-
ence identical with those through which it has previously passed.
Thus, if through adaptation to a new mode of life (as from
walking to climbing) a race loses organs which were highly

FOSSILS AND LIFE 431

useful to it in the former state, then, if it ever reverts to that
former mode of (as from climbing to walking), those organs
never return, but other organs are modified to take their place.

2. But (continues the Law), by virtue of the indestructi-
bility of the past, the organism always preserves some trace of
the intermediate stages. Thus, when a race reverts to its
former state, there remain the traces of those modifications
which its organs underwent while it was pursuing another mode
of existence.

The first statement imposes a veto on any speculations as to
Gescent that involve the reappearance of a vanished structure.
It does not interfere with the cases in which old age seems to
repeat the characters of youth, as in Ammonites, for here the
old-age character may be similar, but obviously is not the same.
The second statement furnishes a guide to the mode of life of
the immediate ancestors, and is applicable to living as well as
to fossil forms. It is from such persistent adaptive characters
that some have inferred the arboreal nature of our own ances-
tors, or even of the ancestors of all mammals. To take but a
single point, Dr. W. D. Matthew’ finds traces of a former oppo-
sable thumb in several early Eocene mammals, and features
dependent on this in the same digit of all mammals where it is
now fixed.

THE STUDY OF HABITAT

The natural history of marine invertebrates is of particular
interest to the geologist, but its study presents peculiar diffi-
culties. The marine zoologist has long recognized that his early
efforts with trawl and dredge threw little light on the depth in
the sea frequented by his captures. The surface floaters, the
swimmers of the middle and lower depths, and the crawlers on
the bottom were confused in a single haul, and he has therefore
devised means for exploring each region separately. The geol-
ogist, however, finds all these faunas mixed in a single deposit.
He may even find with them the winged creatures of the air, as
in the insect beds of Gurnet Bay, or the remains of estuarine
and land animals.

Such mixtures are generally found in rocks that seem to
have been deposited in quiet land-locked bays. Thus in a Silu-
rian rock near Visby, Gotland, have been found creatures of
such diverse habitat as a scorpion, a possibly estuarine Ptery-
gotus, a large barnacle, and a crinoid of the delicate form
usually associated with clear deep water. The lagoons of So-
lenhofen have preserved a strange mixture of land and sea life,

11904, Amer. Natural., XXXVIII., 813.

452 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

without a trace of fresh or brackish water forms. A/rchae-
opteryx, insects, flying reptiles, and creeping reptiles represent
the air and land fauna; jelly-fish and the crinoids Saccocoma are
true open-water wanderers; sponges and stalked crinoids were
sessile on the bottom; starfish, sea-urchins, and worms crawled
on the sea-floor; king-crabs, lobsters, and worms left their
tracks on mud-flats ; cephalopods swam at various depths; fishes
ranged from the bottom mud to the surface waters. The Upper
Ordovician Starfish bed of Girvan contains not only the crawl-
ing and wriggling creatures from which it takes its name, but
stalked echinoderms adapted to most varied modes of life, swim-
ming and creeping trilobites, and indeed representatives of
almost all marine levels.

In the study of such assemblages we have to distinguish be-
tween the places of birth, of life, of death, and of burial, since,
though these may all be the same, they may also be different.
The echinoderms of the Starfish bed further suggest that closer
discrimination is needed between the diverse habitats of bottom
forms. Some of these were, I believe, attached to sea-weed;
others grew up on stalks above the bottom; others clung to shells
or stones; others lay on the top of the sea-floor; others were
partly buried beneath its muddy sand; others may have grov-
eled beneath it, connected with the overlying water by passages.
Here we shall be greatly helped by the investigations of C. G. J.
Petersen and his fellow-workers of the Danish Biological. Sta-
tion.2 They have set an example of intensive study which needs
to be followed elsewhere. By bringing up slabs of the actual
bottom, they have shown that, even in a small area, many di-
verse habitats, each with its peculiar fauna, may be found, one
superimposed on the other. Thanks to Petersen and similar
investigators, exact comparison can now take the place of in-
genious speculation. And that this research is not merely fas-
cinating in itself, but illuminatory of wider questions, follows
from the consideration that analysis of faunas and their modes
of life must be a necessary preliminary to the study of migra-
tions and geographical distribution.

THE TEMPO OF EVOLUTION

We have not yet done with the results that may flow from an
analysis of adaptations. Among the many facts which, when
considered from the side of animal structure alone, lead to
transcendental theories with Greek names, there is the observa-

2 See especially in his summary, “The Sea Bottom and its Production
of Fish Food,’ Copenhagen, 1918.

FOSSILS AND LIFE 433

tion that the relative rate of evolution is very different in races
living at the same time. Since their remains are found often
side by side, it is assumed that they were subject to the same
conditions, and that the differences of speed must be due to a
difference of internal motive force. After what has just been
said you will at once detect the fallacy in this assumption. Pro-
fessor Abel has recently maintained that the varying tempo of
evolution depends on the changes in outer conditions. He com-
pares the evolution of whales, sirenians, and horses during the
Tertiary Epoch, and correlates it with the nature of the food.
Roughly to summarize, he points out that from the Eocene on-
wards the sirenians underwent a steady, slow change, because,
though they migrated from land to sea, they retained their habit
of feeding on the soft water-plants. The horses, though they
remained on land, display an evolution at first rather quick, then
slower, but down to Pliocene times always quicker than that of
the sirenians; and this is correlated with their change into
eaters of grain, and their adaptation to the plains which furnish
such food. The whales, like the sirenians, migrated at the be-
ginning of the Tertiary from land to sea; but how different is
their rate of evolution, and into what diverse forms have they
diverged! At first they remained near the coasts, keeping to
the ancestral diet, and, like the sirenians, changing but slowly.
But the whales were fiesh-eaters, and soon they took to hunting
fish, and then to eating large and small cephalopods; hence from
the Oligocene onwards the change was very quick, and in Mio-
cene times the evolution was almost tempestuous. Finally,
many whales turned to the swallowing of minute floating organ-
isms, and from Lower Pliocene times, having apparently ex-
hausted the possibilities of ocean provender, they changed with
remarkable slowness.

Whether such changes of food or of other habits of life are,
in a sense, spontaneous, or whether they are forced on the crea-
tures by changes of climate and other conditions, makes no dif-
ference to the facts that the changes of form are a reaction to
the stimuli of the outer world and that the rate of evolution de-
pends on those outer changes.

Whether we have to deal with similar changes of form tak-
ing place at different times or in different places, or with diverse
changes affecting the same or similar stocks at the same time
and place, we can see the possibility that all are adaptations to
a changing environment. There is then reason for thinking
that ignorance alone leads us to assume some inexplicable force
urging the races this way or that, to so-called advance or to
apparent degeneration, to life or to death.

VOL. XI.—28.

434 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE RHYTHM OF LIFE

The comparison of the life of a lineage to that of an indi-
vidual is, up to a point, true and illuminating; but when a
lineage first starts on its independent course (which really
means that some individuals of a pre-existing stock enter a new
field), then I see no reason to predict that it will necessarily pass
through periods of youth, maturity, and old age, that it will in-
erease to an acme of numbers, of variety, or of specialization,
and then decline through a second childhood to ultimate extinc-
tion. Still less can we say that, as the individuals of a species
have their allotted span of time, long or short, so the species or
the lineage has its predestined term. The exceptions to those
assertions are indeed recognized by the supporters of such views,
and they are explained in terms of rejuvenescence, rhythmic
cycles, or a grand despairing outburst before death. This
phraseology is delightful as metaphor, and the conceptions have
had their value in promoting search for confirmatory or con-
tradictory evidence. But do they lead to any broad and fructi-
fying principle? When one analyses them one is perpetually
brought up against some transcendental assumption, some un-
known entelechy that starts and controls the machine, but must
forever evade the methods of our science.

The facts of recurrence, of rhythm, of rise and fall, of mar-
velous efflorescences, of gradual decline, or of sudden disap-
pearances, all are incontestable. But if we accept the intimate
relation of organism and environment, we shall surmise that on
a planet with such a geological history as ours, with its recur-
rence of similar physical changes, the phenomena of life must
reflect the great rhythmic waves that have uplifted the moun-
tains and lowered the deeps, no less than every smaller wave
and ripple that has from age to age diversified and enlivened the
face of our restless mother.

To correlate the succession of living forms with all these
changes is the task of the paleontologist. To attempt it he will
need the aid of every kind of biologist, every kind of geologist.
But this attempt is not in its nature impossible, and each ad-
vance to the ultimate goal will, in the future as in the past,
provide both geologist and biologist with new light on their par-
ticular problems. When the correlation shall have been com-
pleted, our geological systems and epochs will no longer be
defined by gaps in our knowledge, but will be the true expression
cf the actual rhythm of evolution. Lyell’s great postulate of
the uniform action of nature is still our guide; but we have
ceased to confound uniformity with monotony. We return,

HEREDITY 435

though with a difference, to the conceptions of Cuvier, to those
numerous and relatively sudden revolutions of the surface of the
globe which have produced the corresponding dynasties in its
succession of inhabitants.

THE FUTURE

The work of a systematic paleontologist, especially of one
dealing with rare and obscure fossils, often seems remote from
the thought and practice of modern science. I have tried to
show that it is not really so. But still it may appear to some to
have no contact with the urgent problems of the world outside.
That also is an error. Whether the views I have criticized or
those I have supported are the correct ones is a matter of prac-
tical importance. If we are to accept the principle of predeter-
mination, or of blind growth-force, we must accept also a check
on our efforts to improve breeds, including those of man, by any
other means than crossing and elimination of unfit strains. In
spite of all that we may do in this way, there remain those deca-
dent races, whether of ostriches or human beings, which “ await
alike the inevitable hour.” If, on the other hand, we adopt the
view that the life-history of races is a response to their environ-
ment, then it follows, no doubt, that the past history of living
creatures will have been determined by conditions outside their
control, it follows that the idea of human progress as a biolog-~
ical law ceases to be tenable; but, since man has the power of
altering his environment and of adapting racial characters
through conscious selection, it also follows that progress will
not of necessity be followed by decadence; rather that, by aim-
ing at a high mark, by deepening our knowledge of ourselves
and of our world, and by controlling our energy and guiding our
efforts in the light of that knowledge, we may prolong and
hasten our ascent to ages and to heights as yet beyond prophetic
vision.

HEREDITY

By Miss E. R. SAUNDERS
PRESIDENT OF THE BOTANICAL SECTION

Y the term Inheritance we are accustomed to signify the
B obvious fact of the resemblance displayed by all living
organisms between offspring and parents, as the direct outcome
of the contributions received from the two sides of the pedigree
at fertilization: to indicate, in fact, owing to lack of knowledge
of the workings of the hereditary process, merely the visible

436 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

consequence—the final result of a chain of events. Now, how-
ever, that we have made a beginning in our analysis of the
stages which culminate in the appearance of any character, a
certain looseness becomes apparent in our ordinary use of the
word Heredity, covering as it does the two concomitant essen-
tials, genetic potentiality and somatic expression—a looseness
which may lead us into the paradoxical statement that inheri-
tance is wanting in a case in which, nevertheless, the evidence
shows that the genetic constitution of the children is precisely
like that of the parents. When we say that a character is in-
herited no ambiguity is involved, because the appearance of the
character entails the inheritance of the genetic potentiality.
But when a character is stated not to be inherited it is not
thereby indicated whether this result is due to environmental
conditions, to genetic constitution, or to both causes combined.
That we are now able in some measure to analyze the genetic
potentialities of the individual is due to one of those far-reaching
discoveries which change our whole outlook and bring imme-
Giately in their train a rapidly increasing array of new facts,
falling at once into line with our new conceptions, or by some
erderly and constant discrepancy pointing a fresh direction for
attack. A historical survey of the steps by which we have
advanced to the present state of our knowledge of Heredity has
so frequently been given during the last twenty years that the
briefest reference to this part of my subject will suffice.

The earliest attempts to frame some general law which would
coordinate and explain the observed facts of inheritance were
those of Galton and Pearson. Galton’s observations led him to
formulate two principles which he believed to be capable of gen-
eral application—the Law of Ancestral Heredity and the Law of
Regression. The Law of Ancestral Heredity was intended to
furnish a general expression for the sum of the heritage handed
on in any generation to the succeeding offspring. Superposed
upon the working of this law were the effects of the Law of Re-
gression, in which the average deviation from the mean of a
whole population of any fraternal group within that population
was expressed in terms of the average deviation of the parents.
These expressions represent statements of averages which, in so
far as they apply, hold only when large numbers are totaled
together. They afford no means of certain prediction in the
individual case. These and all similar statistical statements of
the effects of inheritance take no account of the essentially
physiological nature of this as of ail other processes in the living
organism. They leave us unenlightened on the fundamental

HEREDITY 437

question of the nature of the means by which the results we wit-
ness came to pass. We obtain from them, as from the melting-
pot, various new products whose properties are of interest from
other viewpoints, but, corresponding to no biological reality,
they have failed to bring us nearer to our goal—a fuller compre-
hension of the workings of the hereditary mechanism. Progress
in this direction has resulted from the opposite method of in-
quiry—the study of a single character in a single line of descent,
the method which deals with the unit in place of the mass. The
revelation came with the opening of the present coloring matter
anthocyanin in the petals of plants such as the stock and sweet
pea. Our proof that two factors (at least) are here involved
is obtained when we find that two true breeding forms devoid
of color yield colored offspring when mated together. In this
case the two complementary factors are carried, one by each of
the two crossed forms. When both factors meet in the one indi-
vidual, color is developed. We have in such cases the solution
of the familiar, but previously unexplained, phenomenon of Re-
version. Confirmatory evidence is afforded when among the
offspring of such cross-bred individuals we find the simple 3 to
1 ratio of the one-factor difference replaced by a ratio of 9 to 7.
Similarly we deduce from a ratio of 27 to 37 that three factors
are concerned, from a ratio of 81 to 175 four factors, and so on.
The occurrence of these higher ratios proves that the hereditary
process follows the same course whatever the number of factors
controlling the character in question.

And here I may pause to dwell for a moment upon a point of
which it is well that we should remind ourselves from time to
time, since, though tacitly recognized, it finds no explicit ex-
pression in our ordinary representation of genetic relations.
The method of factorial analysis based on the results of inter-
breeding enables us to ascertain the least possible number of
genetic factors concerned in controlling a particular somatic
character, but what the total of such factors actually is we can
not tell, since our only criterion is the number by which the
forms we employ are found to differ. How many may be com-
mon to these forms remains unknown. In illustration I may
take the case of surface character in the genera Lychnis and
Matthiola. In L. vespertina the type form is hairy; in the va-
riety glabra, recessive to the type, hairs are entirely lacking.
Here all glabrous individuals have so far proved to be similar in
constitution, and when bred with the type give a 3 to 1 ratio in
F,.1. We speak of hairiness in this case, therefore, as being a

1 Report to the Evolution Committee, Royal Society, I., 1902.

458 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

one-factor character. In the case of Matthiola incana v. glabra,
of which many strains are in cultivation, it so happened that
the commercial material originally employed in these investiga-
tions contained all the factors since identified as present in the
type and essential to the manifestation of hairiness except one.
Hence it appeared at first that here also hairiness must be con-
trolled, as in Lychnis, by a single factor. But further experi-
ment revealed the fact that though the total number of factors
contained in these glabrous forms was the same, the respective
factorial combinations were not identical. By interbreeding
these and other strains obtained later, hairy F, cross-breds were
produced giving ratios in F,, which proved that at least four dis-
tinct factors are concerned. Whereas, then, the glabrous ap-
pearance in Lychnis always indicates the loss (if for convenience
we may so represent the nature of the recessive condition) of
one and the same factor, analysis in the Stock shows that the
glabrous condition results if any factor out of a group of four
is represented by its recessive allelomorph. Hence we describe
hairiness in the latter case as a four-factor character.

It will be apparent from the cases cited that we can not infer
from the genetic analysis of one type that the factorial relations
involved are the same for the corresponding character in an-
other. That this should be so in wholly unrelated plants is not,
perhaps, surprising, but we find it to be true also where the
nature of the characteristic and the relationship of the types
might have led us to expect uniformity. This is well seen in the
case of a morphological feature distinctive of the N. O. Grami-
nee. The leaf is normally ligulate, but individuals are occa-
sionally met with in which the ligule is wanting. In these
plants, as a consequence, the leaf blade stands nearly erect in-
stead of spreading out horizontally. Nilsson-Ehle* discovered
that in oats there are at least four and possibly five distinct
factors determining ligule formation, all with equal potentiali-
ties in this direction. Hence, only when the complete series is
lacking is the ligule wanting. In mixed families the proportion
of ligulate to non-ligulate individuals depends upon the number
of these ligule-producing factors contained in the dominant
parent. Emerson‘ found, on the other hand, that in maize
mixed families showed constantly a 3 to 1 ratio, indicating the
existence of only one controlling factor.

2 Proc. Roy. Soc., B, Vol. 85, 1912.

’“ Kreuzungsuntersuchungen an Hafer und Weizen,” Lund, 1909.

* Annual Report of the Agricultural Experiment Station of the Uni-
versity of Nebraska, 1912.

HEREDITY 439

From time to time the objection has been raised that the
Mendelian type of inheritance is not exhibited in the case of
specific characters. ‘That no such sharp line of distinction can
be drawn between the behavior of varietal and specific features
has been repeatedly demonstrated. As a case in point and one
of the earliest in which clear proof of Mendelian segregation
was obtained, we may instance Datura. The two forms, D.
Stramonium and D. Tatula, are ranked by all systematists as
distinct species. Among other specific differences is the flower
color. The one form has purple flowers, the other pure white.
In the case of both species a variety inermis is known in which
the prickles characteristic of the fruit in the type are wanting.
It has been found that in whatever way the two pairs of oppo-
site characters are combined in a cross between the species, the
F, generation is mixed, comprising the four possible combina-
tions in the proportions which we should expect in the case of
two independently inherited pairs of characters, when each pair
of opposites shows the dominant-recessive relation. Segrega-
tion is as sharp and clean in the specific character flower color
as in the varietal character of the fruit. Among the latest addi-
tions to the list of specific hybrids showing Mendelian inheri-
tance, those occurring in the genus Salix are of special interest,
since heretofore the data available had been interpreted as con-
flicting with the Mendelian conception. The recent observa-
tions of Heribert-Nilson® show that those characters which are
regarded by systematists as constituting the most distinctive
marks of the species are referable to an extremely simple fac-
torial system, and that the factors mendelize in the ordinary
way. Furthermore, these specific-character factors control not
only the large constant morphological features, but fundamental
reactions such as those determining the condition of physio-
logical equilibrium and vitality in general. In so far as any
distinction can be drawn between the behavior of factors deter-
mining the varietal as opposed to the specific characters of the
systematist, Heribert-Nilsson concludes that the former are
more localized in their action, while the latter produce more
diffuse results, which may affect almost all the organs and func-
tions of the individual, and thus bring about striking alterations
in the general appearance. S. caprea, for example, is regarded
as the reaction product of two distinct factors which together
control the leaf-breadth character, but which also affect, each
separately and in a different way, leaf form, leaf color, height,

5“ Experimentelle Studien tiber Variabilitit, Spaltung, Artbildung
und Evolution in der Gattung Salix,” 1918.

440 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

and the periodicity of certain phases. We can not, however,
draw a hard-and-fast line between the two categories. The
factor controlling a varietal characteristic often produces effects
in different parts of the plant. For example, the factors which
lead to the production of a colored flower no doubt also in certain
cases cause the tinging seen in the vegetative organs, and affect
the color of the seed. Heribert-Nilsson suggests that fertility
between species is a matter of close similarity in genotypic
(factorial) constitution rather than of outward morphological
resemblance. Forms sundered by the systematist on the ground
of gross differences in certain anatomical features may prove to
be more nearly related because the differentiating factors hap-
pen to control less conspicuous features.

THE SUPPLY OF OXYGEN TO THE TISSUES

By J. R. BARCROFT

PRESIDENT OF THE PHYSIOLOGICAL SECTION

ROMINENT among the pathological conditions which
claimed attention during the war was that of insufficient
oxygen supply to the tissues, or anoxemia. For this there were
several reasons; on the one hand, anoxemia clearly was a factor
to be considered in the elucidation of such conditions as are
induced by gas poisoning, shock, ete. On the other hand, knowl-
edge had just reached the point at which it was possible to dis-
cuss anoxemia on a new level. It is not my object in the pres-
ent address to give any account of war-physiology—the war has
passed, and I, for one, have no wish to revive its memories, but
anoxemia remains, and, as it is a factor scarcely less important
in peace than in war pathology, I think I shall not do wrong in
devoting an hour to its consideration.

The object of my address, therefore, will be to inquire, and,
if possible, to state, where we stand; to sift, if I can, the knowl-
edge from the half-knowledge; to separate what is ascertained
as the result of unimpeachable experiment from what is but
guessed on the most likely hypothesis. In war it was often nec-
essary to act on defective information, because action was nec-
essary and defective information was the best that was to be
had. In this, as in many other fields of knowledge, the whole
subject should be reviewed, the hypotheses tested experiment-
ally, and the gaps filled in. The sentence which lives in my
mind as embodying the problem of anoxemia comes from the

SUPPLY OF OXYGEN TO THE TISSUES 441

pen of one who has given more concentrated thought to the
subject than perhaps any other worker—Dr. J. S. Haldane. It
runs, “ Anoxemia not only stops the machine, but wrecks the
machinery.” This phrase puts the matter so clearly that I shall
commence by an inquiry as to the limits within which it is true.

Anything like complete anoxzmia stops the machine with
almost incredible rapidity. It is true that the breath can be
held for a considerable time, but it must be borne in mind that
the lungs have a volume of about three liters at any moment,
that they normally contain about half a liter of oxygen, and that
this will suffice for the body at rest for upwards of two minutes.
But get rid of the residual oxygen from the lungs only to the
very imperfect extent which is possible by the breathing of some
neutral gas, such as nitrogen, and you will find that only with
difficulty will you endure half a minute. Yet even such a test
gives no real picture of the impotence of the machine—which is
the brain—to “carry on” in the absence of oxygen. For, on
the one hand, nearly a quarter of a minute elapses before the
reduced blood gets to the capillary in the brain, so that the ma-
chine has only carried on for the remaining quarter of a minute;
on the other hand, the arterial blood under such circumstances
is far from being completely reduced—in fact, it has very much
the composition of ordinary venous blood, which means that it
contains about half its usual quotum of oxygen. It seems
coubtful whether complete absence of oxygen would not bring
the brain to an instantaneous standstill. So convincing are the
experimental facts to any one who has tested them for himself,
that I will not further labor the power of anoxzemia to stop the
machine. I will, however, say a word about the assumption
which I have made that the machine in this connection is the
brain.

It can not be stated too clearly that anoxzemia in the last
resort must affect every organ of the body directly. Stoppage
of the oxygen supply is known, for instance, to bring the per-
fused heart to a standstill, to cause a cessation of the flow of
urine, to produce muscular fatigue, and at last immobility, but
from our present standpoint these effects of anoxzemia seem to
me to be out of the picture, because’ the brain is so much the
most sensitive to oxygen want. Therefore, if the problem is
the stoppage of the machine due to an insufficient general supply
of oxygen, I have little doubt that the machine stops because the
brain stops, and here at once I am faced with the question how
far is this assumption and how far is it proven fact? I freely
answer that research in this field is urgent; at present there is

442 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

too great an element of assumption, but there is also a certain
amount of fact.

To what extent does acute anoxemia in a healthy subject
wreck the machinery as well as stop the machine? By acute
anoxzemia I mean complete or almost complete deprivation of
oxygen which, in the matter of time, is too short to prove fatal.
It is not easy to obtain quite clear-cut experiments in answer to
the above question. No doubt many data might be quoted of
men who have recovered from drowning, etc. Such data are
complicated by the fact that anoxzemia has only been a factor
in their condition; other factors, such as accumulation of car-
bonic acid, may also have contributed to it. The remarkable
fact about most of them, however, is the slightness of the in-
jury which the machine has suffered. These data, therefore,
have a value in so far as they show that a very great degree of
anoxemia, if acute and of short duration, may be experienced
with but little wreckage to the machine. They have but little
value in showing that such wreckage is due to the anoxeemia,
because the anoxzemia has not been the sole disturbance.

It is rather fashionable at present to say that “the whole
question of acidosis and anoxzemia is in a hopeless muddle.”
To this I answer that, if it is in a muddle, I believe the reason
to be largely because schools of thought have rallied round
words and have taken sides under the impression that they have
no common ground. The “‘muddle,” in so far as it exists, is not,
I think, by any means hopeless; put I grant freely enough that
we are rather at the commencement than at the end of the sub-
ject, and that much thought and much research must be given,
firstly, in getting accurate data, and, secondly, on relating cause
and effect, before the whole subject will seem simple. No
effort should be spared to replace indirect by direct measure-
ments. My own inference with regard to changes of the reac-
tion of the blood, based on interpretations of the dissociation
curve, should be checked by actual hydrogen ion measurements,
as has been done by Hasselbach and is being done by Donegan
and Parsons. Meakins also is, I think, doing great work by
actually testing the assumptions made by Haldane and himself
as regards the oxygen in arterial blood.

For the anoxic type of anoxemia two forms of compensation
at once suggest themselves. The one is increased hemoglobin
in the blood; the other is increased blood-flow through the tis-
sues. Let us, along the lines of the calculations already made,
endeavor to ascertain how far these two types of compensation

SUPPLY OF OXYGEN TO THE TISSUES 443

will really help. To go back to the extreme anoxic case already
cited, in which the hemoglobin was 66 per cent. saturated, let
us, firstly, see what can be accomplished by an increase of the
hemoglobin value of the blood. Such an increase takes place,
of course, at high altitudes. Let us suppose that the increase is
on the same grand scale as the anoxzemia, and that it is sufficient
to restore the actual quantity of oxygen in one c.c. of blood to
the normal. This, of course, means a rise in the hemoglobin
value of the blood from 100 to 150 on the Gowers’ scale. Yet
even so great an increase in the hemoglobin will only increase
the oxygen taken up in the capillary from each c.c. of blood from
.031 to .036 c.c., and will therefore leave it far short of the .06
¢c.c. which every cubic centimeter of normal blood was giving
to the tissue. So much, then, for increased hemoglobin. It
gives a little, but only a little, respite. Let us turn, therefore,
to increased blood-fiow.

In the stagnant type of anoxemia the principal change which
igs seen to take place is an increase in the quantity of hemoglobin
per cubic millimeter of blood.

This increase is secondary to a loss of water in the tissues,
the result in some cases, as appears from the work of Dale,
Richards, and Laidlaw, of a formation of histamine in the tis-
sues. Whether this increase of hemoglobin is to be regarded as
merely an accidental occurrence or as a compensation is difficult
to decide at present. Roughton’s calculations rather surprised
us by indicating that increased hemoglobin acted less efficiently
as a compensatory mechanism than we had expected. This con-
clusion may have been due to the inaccuracy of our assumptions.
I must therefore remind you that much experimental evidence
is required before the assumptions which are made above are
anything but assumptions. But, so far as the evidence avail-
able at the present time can teach any lesson, that lesson is this:
The only way of dealing satisfactorily with the anoxic type of
anoxemia is to abolish it by in some way supplying the blood
with oxygen at a pressure sufficient to saturate it to the normal
level.

It has been maintained strenuously by the Oxford school of
physiologists that Nature actually did this; that when the par-
tial pressure in the air-cells of the lung was low the cellular cov-
ering of that organ could clutch at the oxygen and force it into
the blood at an unnatural pressure, creating a sort of forced
draught. This theory, as a theory, has much to recommend it.
I am sorry to say, however, that I can not agree with it on the
present evidence. I will only make a passing allusion to the

444 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

experiment which I performed in order to test the theory, living
for six days in a glass respiration-chamber in which the partial
pressure of oxygen was gradually reduced until it was at its
lowest—about 45 mm. Such a pressure, if the lung was inca-
pable of creating what I have termed a forced draught, would
mean an oxygen pressure of 38.40 mm. of mercury in the blood,
a change sufficient to make the arterial blood quite dark in color,
whereas did any considerable forced draught exist, the blood in
the arteries would be quite bright in color. Could we but see
the blood in the arteries, its appearance alone would almost give
the answer as to whether or no oxygen was forced, or, in tech-
nical language, secreted, through the lung wall. And, of course,
we could see the blood in the arteries by the simple process of
cutting one of them open and shedding a little into a closed glass
tube. To the surgeon this is not a difficult matter, and it was,
of course, done. The event showed that the blood was dark,
and the most careful analyses failed to discover any evidence
that the body can force oxygen into the blood in order to com-
pensate for a deficiency of that gas in the air.

Yet the body is not quite powerless. It can, by breathing
more deeply, by increasing the ventilation of the lungs, bring
the pressure of oxygen in the air cells closer to that in the atmos-
phere breathed than would otherwise be the case. I said just
now that the oxygen in my lungs dropped to a minimal pressure
of 45 mm.; but it did not remain at that level. WhenIbestirred
myself a little it rose, as the result of increased ventilation of
the lung, to 56 mm., and at one time, when I was breathing
through valves, it reached 68 mm. Nature will do something,
but what Nature does not do should be done by artifice. Explo-
ration of the condition of the arterial blood is only in its infancy,
yet many cases have been recorded in which in illness the arte-
rial blood has lacked oxygen as much as or more than my own
did in the respiration chamber when I was lying on the last
day, with occasional vomiting, racked with headache, and at
times able to see clearly only as an effort of concentration. A
sick man, if his blood is as anoxic as mine was, can not be ex-
pected to fare better as the result, and so he may be expected
to have all my troubles in addition to the graver ones which are,
perhaps, attributable to some toxic cause. Can he be spared
the anoxeemia? The result of our calculations, so far, points
to the fact that the efficient way of combating the anoxic condi-
tion is to give oxygen. During the war it was given with suc-
cess in the field in cases of gas-poisoning, and also special wards
were formed on a small scale in this country in which the level

INTENSIVE CULTIVATION 445

of oxygen in the atmosphere was kept up to about 40 per cent.,
with great benefit to a large percentage of the cases. The prac-
tise then inaugurated is being tested at Guy’s Hospital by Dr.
Hunt, who administered the treatment during the war.

Nor are the advantages of oxygen respiration confined to
pathological cases. One of the most direct victims of anoxic
anoxemia is the airman who flies at great heights. Everything
in this paper tends to show that to counteract the loss of oxygen
which he sustains at high altitudes there is but one policy,
namely, to provide him with an oxygen equipment which is at
once as light and as efficient as possible—a consummation for
which Haldane has striven unremittingly. And here I come to
the personal note on which I should like to conclude. In the
pages which I have read views have been expressed which differ
from those which he holds in matters of detail—perhaps in mat-
ters of important detail. But Haldane’s teaching transcends
mere detail. He has always taught that the physiology of to-
day is the medicine of to-morrow. The more gladly, therefore,
do I take this opportunity of saying how much I think medicine
owes and will owe, to the inspiration of Haldane’s teaching.

INTENSIVE CULTIVATION

By Professor FREDERICK KEEBLE
PRESIDENT OF THE AGRICULTURAL SECTION

HERE is, so far as I can discover, no reason—save one—
T why I should have been called upon to assume the presi-
dency of the Agricultural Section of the British Association, or
why I should have been temerarious enough to accept so high
an honor and such a heavy load of responsibility. For upon
the theme of Agriculture as commonly understood I could speak,
were I to speak at all, but as a scribe and not as one in authority.
The one reason, however, which must have directed the makers
of presidents in their present choice is, I believe, so cogent that
despite my otherwise unworthiness I dared not refuse the invi-
tation. It is that, in appointing me, agriculturists desired to
indicate the brotherhood which they feel with intensive culti-
vators. As properly proud sisters of an improved tale they
have themselves issued an invitation to the Horticultural Cin-
derella to attend their party, and in conformity with present
custom, which requires each lady to bring her partner, I am
here as her friend.

446 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Nor could any invitation give me greater pleasure: for my
devotion to Horticulture is profound and my affection that of a
lover. My only fear is lest I should weary my hosts with her
praises, for in conformity with this interpretation I propose to
devote my address entirely to Horticulture—to speak of its per-
formance during the war and of its immediate prospects.

Although that which intensive cultivators accomplished
during the war is small in comparison with the great work per-
formed by British agriculturists, yet nevertheless it is in itself
by no means inconsiderable, and is, moreover, significant and
deserves a brief record. That work may have turned and prob-
ably did turn the scale between scarcity and sufficiency; for, as
' IT am informed, a difference of 10 per cent. in food supplies is
enough to convert plenty into dearth. Seen from this stand-
point the war-work accomplished by the professional horticul-
turist—the nurseryman, the florist, the glass-house cultivator,
the fruit-grower and market gardener, and by the professional
and amateur gardener and allotment holder assumes a real im-
portance, albeit that the sum total of the acres they cultivated
is but a fraction of the land which agriculturists put under the
plough.

As a set-off against the relative smallness of the acreage
brought during the war under intensive cultivation for food
purposes, it is to be remembered that the yields per acre ob-
tained by intensive cultivators are remarkably high. For ex-
ample, skilled onion-growers compute their average yield at
something less than 5 tons to the acre. A chrysanthemum-
grower who turned his resources from the production of those
flowers to that of onion obtained over an area of several acres
a yield of 17 tons per acre. The average yield of potatoes under
farm conditions in England and Wales is a little over 6 tons to
the acre, whereas the army gardeners in France produced, from
Scotch seed of Arran Chief which was sent to them, crops of
14 tons to the acre. Needless to say, such a rate of yield as this
is not remarkable when compared with that obtained by potato-
growers in the Lothians or in Lincolnshire, but it is neverthe-
less noteworthy as an indication of what I think may be accepted
as a fact, that the average yields from intensive cultivation are
about double those achieved by extensive methods.

The reduction of the acreage under soft fruits—strawber-
ries, raspberries, currants, and gooseberries—which took place
during the war gives some measure of the sacrifices—partly
voluntary, partly involuntary—made by fruit-growers to the
cause of war-food production. The total area under soft fruits

INTENSIVE CULTIVATION 447

was 55,560 acres in 1913, by 1918 it had become 42,415, a de-
crease of 13,145 acres, or about 24 per cent. As would be ex-
pected, the reduction was greatest in the case of strawberries,
the acreage of which fell from 21,692 in 1913 to 13,143 in 1918,
a decrease of 8,549 acres, or about 40 per cent. It is unfor-
tunate that bad causes often have best propagandas, for were
the public made aware of such facts as these they would realize
that the present high prices of soft fruits are of the nature of
deferred premiums on war-risk insurances with respect to
which the public claims were paid in advance and in full.

I should add that the large reduction of the strawberry acre-
age is a measure no less of the shortsightedness of official than
of the public spirit of fruit-growers; for in the earlier years of
the war many counties issued compulsory orders requiring the
grubbing up and restriction of planting of fruit, and I well
remember that one of my first tasks as Controller of Horticul-
ture was to intervene with the object of convincing the enthu-
siasts of corn production that, in war, some peace-time luxuries
become necessaries and that, to a sea-girt island beset by sub-
marines, home-grown fruit most certainly falls into this
category.

Those who were in positions of responsibility at that time
will not readily forget the shifts to which they were put to secure
and preserve supplies of any sorts of fruit which could be
turned into jam—the collection of blackberries, the installation
of pulping factories which Mr. Martin and I initiated, and the
rushing of supplies of scarcely set jam to great towns, the popu-
lace of which, full of a steadfast fortitude in the face of military
misfortune, was ominously losing its sweetness of disposition
owing to the absence of jam and the dubiousness of the supply
and quality of margarine.

But though the public lost in one direction it gained in an-
other, and the reduction of the soft-fruit acreage meant—reck-
oned in terms of potatoes—an augmentation of supplies to the
extent of over 100,000 tons. Equally notable was the contribu-
tion to food production made by the florists and nurserymen in
response to our appeals. An indication of their effort is sup-
plied by figures which, as president of the British Florists’
Federation, Mr. George Munro—whose invaluable work for
food production deserves public recognition—caused to be col-
lected. They relate to the amount of food production under-
taken by 100 leading florists and nurserymen. These men put
1.075 acres, out of a total of 1,775 acres used previously for
fiower-growing, to the purpose of food production, and they put

448 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

142 acres of glass out of a total of 218 acres to like use. I com-
pute that their contribution amounted to considerably more
than 12,000 tons of potatoes and 5,000 tons of tomatoes.

The market growers of Evesham and other districts famous
for intensive cultivation also did their share by substituting for
luxury crops, such as celery, those of greater food value, and
even responded to our appeals to increase the acreage under that
most chancy of crops—the onion, by laying down an additional
4,000 acres and thereby doubling a crop which more than any
others supplies accessory food substances to the generality of
the people.

In this connection the yields of potatoes secured by Germany
and this country during the war period are worthy of scrutiny.

The pre-war averages were: Germany 42,450,000 tons,
United Kingdom 6,950,000 tons; and the figures for 1914 were:
Germany 41,850,000 tons, United Kingdom 7,476,000 tons.

Germany’s supreme effort was made in 1915 with a yield of
49,570,000 tons, or about 17 per cent. above average. In that
year our improvement was only half as good as that of Ger-
many: our crop of 7,540,000 tons bettering our average by only
8 per cent. In 1916 weather played havoc with the crops in
both countries, but Germany suffered most. The yield fell to
20,550,000 tons, a decrease of more than 50 per cent., whilst our
crop was down to 5,469,000 tons, a falling off of only 20 per
cent. In the following year Germany could produce no more
than 39,500,000 tons, or a 90 per cent. crop, whereas the United
Kingdom raised 8,604,000 tons, or about 24 per cent. better than
the average. Finally, whereas with respect to the 1918 crop in
Germany no figures are available, those for the United Kingdom
indicate that the 1917 crop actually exceeded that of 1918.

There is much food for thought in these figures, but my im-
mediate purpose in citing them is to claim that of the million
and three quarter tons increase in 1917 and 1918 a goodly pro-
portion must be put to the credit of the intensive cultivator.

I regret that no statistics are available to illustrate the war-
time food production by professional and amateur gardeners.
That it was great I know, but how great I am unable to say.
This however I can state, that from the day before the outbreak
of hostilities, when, with the late Secretary of the Royal Horti-
cultural Society, I started the intensive food-production cam-
paign by urging publicly the autumn sowing of vegetables—a
practice both then and now insufficiently followed—the amateur
and professional gardeners addressed themselves to the work
of producing food with remarkable energy and success. No less

INTENSIVE CULTIVATION 449

remarkable and successful was the work of the old and new
allotment holders, so much so indeed that at the time of the
Armistice there were nearly a million and a half allotment hold-
ers cultivating upwards of 125,000 acres of land: an allotment
for every five householdsin England and Wales. It is a pathetic
commentary on the Peace that Vienna should find itself obliged
to do now what was done here during the war—namely, convert
its parks and open spaces into allotments in order to supplement
a meager food supply.

This brief review of war-time intensive cultivation would be
incomplete were it to contain no reference to intensive cultiva-
tion by the armies at home and abroad. From small begin-
nings, fostered by the distribution by the Royal Horticuitural
Society of supplies of vegetable seeds and plants to the troops
in France, army cultivation assumed under the direction of Lord
Harcourt’s Army Agricultural Committee extraordinarily large
dimensions: a bare summary must suffice here, but a full ac-
count may be found in the report presented by the Committee
to the House of Parliament and published as a Parliamentary
Paper.

In 1918 the armies at home cultivated 5,869 acres of vege-
tables. Inthe summer of that year the camp and other gardens
of our armies in France were producing 100 tons of vegetables
a day. These gardens yielded, in 1918, 14,000 tons of vege-
tables, worth, according to my estimate, a quarter of a million
pounds sterling, but worth infinitely more if measured in terms
of benefit to the health of the troops.

As the result of General Maude’s initiative, the forces in
Mesopotamia became great gardeners, and in 1918 produced
800 tons of vegetables, apart altogether from the large cultiva-
tions carried out by His Majesty’s Forces in that wonderfully
fertile land. In the same year the forces at Salonika had about
7,000 acres under agricultural and horticultural crops, and
raised produce which effected a saving of over 50,000 shipping
tons.

Even from this brief record it will, I believe, be conceded
that intensive cultivation played a useful and significant part in
the war: what, it may be asked, is the part which it is destined
to play in the future? So far as I am able to learn, there exist
in this country two schools of thought or opinion on the subject
of the prospects of intensive cultivation, the optimistic and the
pessimistic school. The former sees visions of large commu-
nities of small cultivators colonizing the countryside of Eng-
land, increasing and multiplying both production and them-

VOL. xI.—29.

450 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

selves, a numerous, prosperous and happy people and a sure
shield in time of war against the menace of submarines and
starvation. Those on the other hand who take the pessimistic
view, point to the many examples of smallholders who “plough
with pain their native lea and reap the labor of their hands”
with remarkably small profit to themselves or to the commu-
nity—smallholders like those in part of Warwickshire, who can
just manage by extremely hard labor to maintain themselves,
or, like those in certain districts of Norfolk, who have let their
holdings tumble down into corn and who produce no more and
indeed less to the acre than do the large farmers who are their
neighbors.

Before making any attempt to estimate the worth of these
rival opinions it may be observed that the war has brought a
large reinforcement of strength to the rank of the optimists. A
contrast of personal experiences illustrates this fact. When in
the early days of the war I felt it my duty to consult certain
important county officials with the object of securing their sup-
port for schemes of intensive food production, I carried away
from the conference one conclusion only: that the counties of
England were of two kinds, those which were already doing
much and were unable therefore to do more, and those which
were doing little because there was no more to be done. In
spite of this close application of the doctrine of Candide—that
all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds—I was able
to set up some sort of county horticultural organization, scrappy,
amateurish, but enthusiastic, and the work done by that organi-
zation was on the average good; so much so indeed that when
after the Armistice I sought to build up a permanent county
horticultural organization I was met by a changed temper.
The schemes which the staff of the Horticultural Division had
elaborated as the result of experience during the war were re-
ceived and adopted with a cordiality which I like to think was
evoked no less by the excellence of the schemes themselves than
by the promise of liberal financial assistance in their execution.
Thus it came about that when the time arrived for me to hand
over the controllership of Horticulture to my successor, almost
every county had established a strong County Horticultural
Committee, and the chief counties from the point of view of
intensive cultivation had provided themselves with a staff com-
petent to demonstrate not only to cottagers and allotment hold-
ers, but also to smallholders and commercial growers, the best
methods of intensive cultivation. In the most important coun-
ties horticultural superintendents with knowledge of commer-

THE PROBLEMS OF ANTHROPOLOGY 451

cial fruit-growing were being appointed, and demonstration
fruit and market-garden plots, designed on lines laid down by
Captain Wellington and his expert assistants, were in course of
establishment. The detailed plans for these links in a national
chain of demonstration and trial plots have been published, and
any one who will study them will, I believe, recognize that they
point the way to the successful development of a national system
of intensive cultivation.

By means of these county stations the local cultivator may
learn how to plant and maintain his fruit plantation and how to
crop his vegetable quarters, what stock to run and what varie-
ties to grow.

Farm stations—with the Research stations established pre-
viously by the Ministry; Long Ashton and East Malling for
fruit investigations; the Lea Valley Growers’ Association and
Rothamstead for investigation of soil problems and pathology;
the Imperial College of Science for research in plant physiology,
together with a couple of stations, contemplated before the war,
for local investigation of vegetable cultivation; an alliance with
the Royal Horticultural Society’s Research Station at Wisley,
and with the John Innes Horticultural Institute for research in
genetics; the Ormskirk Potato Trial Station; a Poultry Insti-
tute; and, most important of all from the point of view of edu-
cation, the establishment at Cambridge of a School of Horticul-
ture—constitute a horticultural organization which, if properly
coordinated and—dare I say it?—directed, should prove of su-
preme value to all classes of intensive cultivators. To achieve
that result, however, something more than a permissive attitude
on the part of the ministry is required, and in completing the
design of it I had hoped also to remain a part of that organiza-
tion long enough to assist in securing its functioning as a living,
plastic, resourceful, directive force—a horticultural cerebrum.
Thus developed, it is my conviction that this instrument is capa-
ble of bringing Horticulture to a pitch of perfection undreamed
of at the present time either in this country or elsewhere.

THE PROBLEMS OF ANTHROPOLOGY

By Professor KARL PEARSON
PRESIDENT OF THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL SECTION

NTHROPOLOGY—the Understanding of Man—should be,
A if Pierre Charron were correct, the true science and the

452 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

true study of mankind. We might anticipate that in our days
—in this era of science—anthropology in its broadest sense
would occupy the same exalted position that theology occupied
in the Middle Ages. We should hail it ‘‘ Queen of the Sciences,”
the crowning study of the academic curriculum. Why is it that
we are Section H and not Section A? If the answer be given
that such is the result of historic evolution, can we still be sat-
isfied with the position that anthropology at present takes up
in our British universities and in our learned societies? Have
our universities, one and all, anthropological institutes well
filled wth enthusiastic students, and are there brilliant pro-
fessors and lecturers teaching them not only to understand
man’s past, but to use that knowledge to forward his future?
Have we men trained during a long life of study and research
to represent our science in the arena, or do we largely trust to
dilettanti—to retired civil servants, to untrained travellers or
colonial medical men for our knowledge, and to the anatomist,
the surgeon, or the archeologist for our teaching? Needless to
say, that for the study of man we require the better part of
many sciences, we must draw for contributions on medicine, on
zoology, on anatomy, on archeology, on folk-lore and travel-lore,
nay, on history, psychology, geology, and many other branches
of knowledge. But a hotch-potch of the facts of these sciences
does not create anthropology. The true anthropologist is not
the man who has merely a wide knowledge of the conclusions of
other sciences, he is the man who grasps their bearing on man-
kind and throws light on the past and present factors of human
evolution from that knowledge.

I am afraid I am a scientific heretic—an outcast from the
true orthodox faith—I do not believe in science for its own sake.
I believe only in science for man’s sake. You will hear on every
side the argument that it is not the aim of science to be utile,
that you must pursue scientific studies for their own sake and
not for the utility of the resulting discoveries. I think that
there is a great deal of obscurity about this attitude, I will not
say nonsense. I find the strongest supporters of “science for
its own sake” use as the main argument for the pursuit of not
immediately utile researches that these researches will be useful
some day, that we can never be certain when they will turn out
to be of advantage to mankind. Or, again, they will appeal to
non-utile branches of science as providing a splendid intellectual

1“Tja vraye science et le vray estude de homme c’est )’Homme.”
Pierre Charron, De la Sagesse, Préface du Premier Livre, 1601. Pope,

with his “ The proper study of mankind is Man,” 1733, was, as we might
anticipate, only a plagiarist.

THE PROBLEMS OF ANTHROPOLOGY 453

training—as if the provision of highly trained minds was not
itself a social function of the greatest utility! In other words,
the argument from utility is in both cases indirectly applied to
justify the study of science for its own sake. In the old days
the study of hyperspace—space of higher dimensions than that
of which we have physical cognizance—used to be cited as an
example of a non-utile scientific research. In view of the facts:
(i) that our whole physical outlook on the universe—and with
it I will add our whole philosophical and theological outlook—
are taking new aspects under the theory of Einstein; and (ii)
that study of the relative influences of nature and nurture in
man can be reduced to the trigonometry of polyhedra in hyper-
space—we see how idle it is to fence off any field of scientific
investigation as non-utile.

Yet are we to defend the past of anthropology—and, in par-
ticular, of anthropometry—as the devotion of our science to an
immediate non-utile which one day is going to be utile in a
glorious and epoch-making manner, like the Clifford-Einstein
suggestion of the curvature of our space? I fear we can take
no such flattering unction to our souls. I fear that “the best is
yet to be” can not be said of our multitudinous observations on
“height-sitting ” or on the censuses of eye or hair colors of our
population. These things are dead almost from the day of their
record. It is not only because the bulk of their recorders were
untrained to observe and measure with scientific accuracy, it is
not only because the records in nine out of ten cases omit the
associated factors without which the record is valueless. It
is because the progress of mankind in its present stage depends
on characters wholly different from those which have so largely
occupied the anthropologist’s attention. Seizing the superficial
and easy to observe, he has let slip the more subtle and elusive
qualities on which progress, on which national fitness for this
or that task essentially depends. The pulse-tracing, the reac-
tion-time, the mental age of the men under his control are far
more important to the commanding officer—nay, I will add, to
the employer of labor—than any record of span, of head-meas-
urement, or pigmentation categories. The psycho-physical and
psycho-physiological characters are of far greater weight in the
struggle of nations to-day than the superficial measurement of
man’s body. Physique, in the fullest sense, counts something
still, but it is physique as measured by health, not by stature or
eye-color. But character, strength of will, mental quickness
count more, and if anthropometry is to be useful to the state it
must turn from these rusty old weapons, these measurements of

454 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

stature and records of eye-color to more certain appreciation of
bodily health and mental aptitude—to what we may term “ vig-
orimetry’”’ and to psychometry.

Some of you may be inclined to ask: And how do you know
that these superficial size-, shape-, and pigment-characters are
not closely associated with measurements of soundness of body
and soundness of mind? The answer to this question is two-
fold, and I must ask you to follow me for a moment into what
appears a totally different subject. I refer to a “pure race.”
Some biologists apparently believe they can isolate a pure race,
but in the case of man, I feel sure that purity of race is a merely
relative term. For a given character one race is purer than a
second, if the scientific measure of variation of that character
is less than it isin the second. In loose wording, for we can not
express ourselves accurately without mathematical symbols,
that race is purer for which on the average the individuals are
closer to type for the bulk of ascertainable characters than are
the characters in a second race. But an absolutely pure race in
man defies definition. The more isolated a group of men has
remained, the longer it has lived under the same environment,
and the more limited its habitat, the less variation from type it
will exhibit, and we can legitimately speak of it as possessing
greater purity. We, most of us, probably believe in a single
crigin of man. But as anthropologists we are inclined to speak
as if at the dawn of history there were a number of pure races,
each with definite physical and mental characteristics; if this
were true, which I do not believe, it could only mean that up to
that period there had been extreme isolation, extremely differ-
entiated environment, and so marked differences in the direction
and rate of mental and physical evolution. But what we know
historically of folk-wanderings, folk-mixings, and folk-absorp-
tions have undoubtedly been going on for hundreds of thousands
of years, of which we know only a small historic fragment.
Have we any real reason for supposing that “purity of race”
existed up to the beginning of history, and that we have all got
badly mixed up since?

Let us, however, grant that there were purer races at the
beginning of history than we find to-day. Let us suppose a
Nordic race with a certain stature, a given pigmentation, a given
shape of head, and a given mentality. And again, we will sup-
pose an Alpine race, differing markedly in type from the Nordic
race. What happens if we cross members of the two races and
proceed to a race of hybrids? A Mendelian would tell us that
these characters are sorted out like cards from a pack in all sorts

THE PROBLEMS OF ANTHROPOLOGY 455

of novel combinations. A Nordic mentality will be found with
short stature and dark eyes. A tall but brachycephalic indi-
vidual will combine Alpine mentality with blue eyes. Without
accepting fully the Mendelian theory we can at least accept the
result of mass observations, which show that the association
between superficial physical measurements and mentality is of
the slenderest kind. If you keep within one class, my own
measurements show me that there is only the slightest relation
between intelligence and the size and shape of the head. Pig-
mentation in this country seems to have little relation to the inci-
dence of disease. Size and shape of head in man have been
taken as a rough measure of size and shape of brain. They can
not tell you more—perhaps not as much as brain-weight—and
if brain-weight were closely associated with intelligence, then
man should be at his intellectual prime in his teens.

Again, too often is this idea of close association of mentality
and physique carried into the analysis of individuals within a
human group, 7.e., of men belonging to one or another of the
many races which have gone to build up our population. We
talk as if it was our population which was mixed, and not our
germplasm. We are accustomed to speak of a typical English-
man. For example, Charles Darwin; we think of his mind as a
typical English mind, working in a typical English manner, yet
when we come to study his pedigree we seek in vain for “ purity
of race.” He is descended in four different lines from Irish
kinglets; he is descended in as many lines from Scottish and
Pictish kings. He has Manx blood. He claims descent in at
least three lines from Alfred the Great, and so links up with
Anglo-Saxon blood, but he links up also in several lines with
Charlemagne and the Carlovingians. He sprang also from the
Saxon Emperors of Germany, as well as from Barbarossa and
the Hohenstaufens. He had Norwegian blood and much Nor-
man blood. He had descent from the Duke of Bavaria, of Sax-
ony, of Flanders, the Princes of Savoy, and the Kings of Italy.
He had the blood in his veins of Franks, Alamans, Merovingians,
Burgundians, and Longobards. He sprang in direct descent
from the Hun rulers of Hungary and the Greek Emperors of
Constantinople. If I recollect rightly, Ivan the Terrible pro-
vides a Russian link. There is probably not one of the races of
Europe concerned in folk-wanderings which has not a share in
the ancestry of Charles Darwin. If it has been possible in the
case of one Englishman of this kind to show in a considerable
number of lines how impure is his race, can we venture to assert
that if the like knowledge were possible of attainment, we could

456 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

expect greater purity of blood in any of his countrymen? What
we are able to show may occur by tracing an individual in his-
toric times, wherever physical barriers did not isolate a limited
section of mankind? If there ever was an association of defi-
nite mentality with physical characters, it would break down as
soon as race mingled freely with race, as it has done in historic
Europe. Isolation or a strong feeling against free inter-breed-
ing—as in a color differentiation—could alone maintain a close
association between physical and mental characters. Europe
has never recovered from the general hybridization of the folk-
wanderings, and it is only the cessation of wars of conquest and
occupation, the spread of the conception of nationality and the
reviving consciousness of race, which is providing the barriers
which may eventually lead through isolation to a new linking-up
of physical and mental characters.

In a population which consists of non-intermarrying castes,
as in India, physique and external appearance may be a measure
of the type of mentality. In the highly and recently hybridized
nations of Europe there are really but few fragments of “ pure
races” left, and it is hopeless to believe that anthropometric
measurements of the body or records of pigmentation are going
to help us to a science of the psycho-physical characters of man
which will be useful to the state. The modern state needs in
its citizens vigor of mind and vigor of body, but these are not
characters with which the anthropometry of the past has largely
busied itself. In a certain sense the school medical officer and
the medical officer of health are doing more state service of an
anthropological character than the anthropologists themselves.

These doubts have come very forcibly to my notice during
the last few years. What were the anthropologists as anthro-
pologists doing during the war? Many of them were busy
enough and doing valuable work because they were anatomists,
or because they were surgeons, or perhaps even because they
were mathematicians. But as anthropologists, what was their
position? ‘The whole period of the war produced the most diffi-
cult problems in folk-psychology. There were occasions innum-
erable where thousands of lives and most heavy expenditure of
money might have been saved by a greater knowledge of what
creates and what damps folk movements in the various races of
the world. India, Egypt, Ireland, even our present relations
with Italy and America, show only too painfully how difficult
we find it to appreciate the psychology of other nations. We
shall not surmount these difficulties until anthropologists take a
wider view of the material they have to record and of the task

e

THE PROBLEMS OF ANTHROPOLOGY 457

they have before them if they wish to be utile to the state. It
is not the physical measurement of native races which is a fun-
damental feature of anthropometry to-day; it is the psychome-
try and what I have termed the vigorimetry of white- as well
as of dark-skinned men that must become the main subjects of
our study.

Some of you may consider that I am overlooking what has
been contributed both in this country and elsewhere to the sci-
enc of folk-psychology. I know at least that Wilhelm Wundt’s?
great work runs to ten volumes. But I also know that in its
5,452 pages there is not a single table of numerical measure-
ments, not a single statement of the quantitative association be-
tween mental racial characters, nor, indeed, any attempt to show
numerically the intensity of association between folk-mentality
and folk customs and institutions. It is foik-psychology in the
same stage of evolution as present-day sociology is in, or as indi-
vidual psychology was in before the advent of experimental psy-
chology and the correlational calculus. It is purely descriptive
and verbal. I am not denying that many sciences must for a
long period still remain in this condition, but at the same time I
confess myself a firm disciple of Friar Roger Bacon* and of
Leonardo da Vinci,* and believe that we can really know very
little about a phenomenon until we can actually measure it and
express its relations to other phenomena in quantitative form.
Now you will doubtless suggest that sections of folk-psychology

» like Language, Religion, Law, Art—much that forms the sub-

stance of cultural anthropology—are incapable of quantitative
treatment. Iam not convinced that this standpoint is correct.
Take only the first of these sections—Language. I am by no
means certain that there is not a rich harvest to be reaped by
the first man who can give unbroken time and study to the sta-
tistical analysis of language. Whether he start with roots or
with words to investigate the degree of resemblance in lan-
guages of the same family, he is likely, before he has done, to
learn a great deal about the relative closeness and order of evo-
lution of cognate tongues, whether those tongues be Aryan or
Sudanese. And the methods applicable in the case of language

2Its last volume also bears evidence of the non-judicial mind of the
writer, who expresses strong opinions about recent events in the language
of the party historian rather than the man of science.

3 He who knows not Mathematics can not know any other science, and
what is more can not discover his own ignorance or find its proper
remedies.

4Nissuna humana investigatione si po dimandare vera scientia s’essa
non passa per le matematiche dimonstratione.

458 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

will apply in the same manner to cultural habits and ideas.
Strange as the notion may seem at first, there is a wide field in
cultural anthropology for the use of those same methods which
have revolutionized psychometric techniqte, to say nothing of
their influence on osteometry.

The problems of cultural anthropology are subtle, but so in-
deed are the problems of anthropometry, and no instrument can
be too fine if our analysis is to be final. The day is past when
the arithmetic of the kindergarten sufficed for the physical an-
thropologist ; the day is coming when mere verbal discussion will
prove inadequate for the cultural anthropologist.

I do not say this merely in the controversial spirit. I say it
because I want to find a remedy for the present state of affairs.
I want to see the full recognition of anthropology as a leading
science by the state. I want to see the recognition of anthro-
pology by our manufacturers and commercial men, for it should
be at least as important to them as chemistry or physics—the
foundations of the anthropological institutes with their mu-
seums and professors in Hamburg and Frankfurt, have not yet
found their parallels in commercial centers here. I want to see
a fuller recognition of anthropology in our great scientific socie-
ties, both in their choice of members and in the memoirs pub-
lished. If their doors are being opened to psychology under its
new technique, may not anthropology also seek for fuller rec-
ognition?

It appears to me that if we are to place anthropology in its
true position as the queen of the sciences, we must work shoulder
to shoulder and work without intermittence in the following di-
rections: anthropologists must not cease:

(i) To insist that our recorded materia] shall be such that
it is at present or likely in the near future to be utile to the state,
using the word “state” in its amplest sense.

(ii) To insist that there shall be institutes of anthropology,
each with a full staff of qualified professors, whose whole energy
and time shall be devoted to the teaching of and research in
anthropology, ethnology and prehistory. At least three of our
chief universities should be provided with such institutes.

(iii) To insist that our technique shall not consist in the
mere statement of opinion on the facts observed, but shall fol-
low, if possible with greater insight, the methods which are com-
ing into use in epidemiology and psychology.

INDIVIDUAL CHILD AND TEACHING 459

THE INDIVIDUAL CHILD AND METHODS OF
TEACHING

By SIR ROBERT BLAIR

PRESIDENT OF THE EDUCATIONAL SECTION

T is upon the latter problem, or group of problems, that ex-
perimental work has in the past been chiefly directed, and
in the immediate future is likely to be concentrated with the
most fruitful results. The recent advances in “individual psy-
chology ”—the youngest branch of that infant science—have
greatly emphasized the need, and assisted the development, of
individual teaching. The keynote of successful instruction is to
adapt that instruction to the individual child. But before in-
struction can be so adapted, the needs and the capacities of the
individual child must first be discovered.

Such discovery (as in all sciences) may proceed by two
methods, by observation and by experiment.

1. The former method is in education the older. At one
time, in the hands of Stanley Hall and his followers—the pio-
neers of the Child-Study movement—observation yielded fruit-
ful results. And it is perhaps to be regretted that of late simple
observation and description have been neglected for the more
ambitious method of experimental tests. There is much that a
vigilant teacher can do without using any special apparatus and
without conducting any special experiment. Conscientious
records of the behavior and responses of individual children,
accurately described without any admixtures of inference or
hypothesis, would lay broad foundations upon which subsequent
investigators could build. The study of children’s temperament
and character, for example—factors which have not yet been
accorded their due weight in education—must for the present
proceed upon these simpler lines.

2. With experimental tests the progress made during the last
decade has been enormous. The intelligence scale devised by
Binet for the diagnosis of mental deficiency, the mental tests
employed by the American army, the vocational tests now com-
ing into use for the selection of employees—these have done
much to familiarize, not school teachers and school doctors only,
but also the general public, with the aims and possibilities of
psychological measurement. More recently an endeavor has
been made to assess directly the results of school instruction,
and to record in quantitative terms the course of progress from
year to year, by means of standardized tests for educational

460 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

attainments. In this country research committees of the British
Association and of the Child-Study Society have already com-
menced the standardization of normal performances in such
subjects as reading and arithmetic. In America attempts have
been made to standardize even more elusive subjects, such as
drawing, handwork, English composition, and the subjects of
the curriculum of the secondary school.

This work of diagnosis has done much to foster individual
and differential teaching—the adaptation of education to indi-
vidual children, or at least to special groups and types. It has
not only assisted the machinery of segregation—of selecting the
mentally deficient child at one end of the scale and the scholar-
ship child at the other end; but it has also provided a method for
assessing the results of different teaching and methods as ap-
plied to these segregated groups. Progress has been most pro-
nounced in the case of the sub-normal. The mentally defective
are now taught in special schools, and receive an instruction of
a specially adapted type. Some advance has more recently been
made in differentiating the various grades and kinds of so-called
deficiency ; and in discriminating between the deficient and the
merely backward and dull. With regard to the morally defect-
ive and delinquent little scientific work has been attempted in
this country, with the sole exception of the new experiment
initiated by the Birmingham justices. In the United States
some twenty centers or clinics have been established for the
psychological examination of exceptional children; and in Eng-
land school medical officers and others have urged the need for
“intermediate” classes or schools not only to accommodate
backward and borderline cases and cases of limited or special
defect (e. g., “ number-defect”’ and so-called “‘ word-blindness ”’)
but also to act as clearing-houses.

In Germany and elsewhere special interest has been aroused
in supernormal children. The few investigations already made
show clearly that additional attention, expenditure, study, and
provision will yield for the community a far richer return in
the case of the super-normal than in the sub-normal.

At Harvard and elsewhere psychologists have for some time
been elaborating psychological tests to select those who are best
fitted for different types of vocation. The investigation is still
only in its initial stages. But it is clear that if vocational guid-
ance were based, in part at least, upon observations and records
made at school, instead of being based upon the limited interests
and knowledge of the child and his parents, then not only em-
ployers, but also employees, their work, and the community as

INDIVIDUAL CHILD AND TEACHING 461

a whole, would profit. A large proportion of the vast wastage
involved in the current system of indiscriminate engagement on
probation would be saved.

The influence of sex, social status, and race upon individual
differences in educational abilities has been studied upon a small
scale. The differences are marked: and differences in sex and
social status, when better understood, might well be taken into
account both in diagnosing mental deficiency and in awarding
scholarships. As arule, however, those due to sex and race are
smaller than is popularly supposed. How far these differences,
and those associated with social status, are inborn and ineradi-
cable, and how far they are due to differences in training and in
tradition, can hardly be determined without a vast array of
data.

The subjects taught and the methods of teaching have con-
siderably changed during recent years. In the more progress-
ive types of schools several broad tendencies may be discerned.
All owe their acceptance in part to the results of scientific
investigators.

1. Far less emphasis is now laid upon the disciplinary value
of subjects, and upon subjects whose value is almost solely dis-
ciplinary. Following inthe steps of a series of American inves-
tigators, Winch and Sleight in this country have shown very
clearly that practise in one kind of activity produces improve-
ments in other kinds of activities, only under very limited and
special conditions. The whole conception of transfer of train-
ing is thus changed, or (some maintain) destroyed; and the
earlier notion of education as the strengthening, through exer-
cise, of certain general faculties has consequently been revolu-
tionized. There is a tendency to select subjects and methods of
teaching rather for their material than their general value.

2. Far less emphasis is now laid upon an advance according
to strict logical sequences in teaching a given subject of the cur-
riculum to children of successive ages. The steps and methods
are being adapted rather to the natural capacities and interests
of the child of each age. This genetic standpoint has received
great help and encouragement from experimental psychology.
Binet’s own scale of intelligence was intended largely as a study
in the mental development of the normal child. The develop-
mental phases of particular characteristics (e. g., children’s
ideals) and special characteristics of particular developmental
phases (e. g., adolescence) have been elaborately studied by
Stanley Hall and his followers. Psychology, indeed, has done

462 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

much to emphasize the importance of the post-pubertal period—
the school-leaving age, and the years that follow. Such studies
have an obvious bearing upon the curriculum and methods for
our new continuation schools. But it is, perhaps, in the revolu-
tionary changes in the teaching methods of the infants’ schools,
changes that are already profoundly influencing the methods of
the senior department, that the influence of scientific study has
been most strongly at work.

3. Increasing emphasis is now being laid upon mental and
motor activities. Early educational practise, like early psychol-
ogy, was excessively intellectualistic. Recent child-study, how-
ever, has emphasized the importance on the motor and of the
emotional aspects of the child’s mental life. As a consequence,
the theory and practise of education have assumed more of the
pragmatic character which has characterized contemporary
philosophy.

The progressive introduction of manual and practical sub-
jects, both in and for themselves, and as aspects of other sub-
jects, forms the most notable instance of this tendency. The
educational process is assumed to start, not from the child’s
sensations (as nineteenth-century theory was so apt to main-
tain), but rather from his motor reactions to certain perceptual
objects—objects of vital importance to him and to his species
under primitive conditions, and therefore appealing to certain
instinctive impulses. Further, the child’s activities in the
school should be, not indeed identical with, but continuous with,
the activities of his subsequent profession or trade. Upon
these grounds handicraft should now find a place in every school
curriculum. It will be inserted both for its own sake, and for
the sake of its connections with other subjects, whether they be
subjects of school life, of after life, or of human life generally.

4, As a result of recent psychological work, more attention
is now being paid to the emotional, moral, and esthetic activi-
ties. This is a second instance of the same reaction from ex-
cessive intellectualism. Education in this country has ever
claimed to form character as well as to impart knowledge.
Formerly, this aim characterized the public schools rather than
the public elementary schools. Recently, however, much has
been done to infuse into the latter something of the spirit of the
public schools. The principle of self-government, for example,
has been applied with success not only in certain elementary
schools, but also in several colonies for juvenile delinquents.
And, in the latter case, its success has been attributed by the
initiators directly to the fact that it is a corollary of sound child-
psychology.

INDIVIDUAL CHILD AND TEACHING 463

Bearing closely upon the subject of moral and emotional
training is the work of the psycho-analysts. Freud has shown
that many forms of mental inefficiency in later life—both major
(such as hysteria, neurosis, certain kinds of “ shell-shock,” etc.)
and minor (such as lapses of memory, of action, slips of tongue
and pen)—are traceable to the repression of emotional expe-
riences in earlier life. The principles themselves may, perhaps,
still be regarded as, in part, a matter of controversy. But the
discoveries upon which they are based vividly illustrate the
enormous importance of the natural instincts, interests, and
activities, inherited by the child as part of his biological equip-
ment; and, together with the work done by English psycholo-
gists such as Shand and McDougall upon the emotional basis of
character, have already had a considerable influence upon edu-
cational theory in this country.

5. Increasing emphasis is now being laid upon freedom for
individual effort and initiative. Here, again, the corollaries
drawn from the psycho-analytic doctrines as to the dangers of
repression are most suggestive. Already a better understand-
ing of child-nature has led to the substitution of “internal” for
“external” discipline; and the pre-determined routine demanded
of entire classes is giving way to the growing recognition of the
educational value of spontaneous efforts initiated by the indi-
vidual, alone or in social cooperation with his fellows. In ap-
pealing for greater freedom still, the new psychology is in line
with the more advanced educational experiments, such as the
work done by Madame Montessori and the founders of the Little
Commonwealth.

6. The hygiene and technique of mental work is itself being
based upon scientific investigation. Of the numerous problems
in the conditions and character of mental work generally, two
deserve especial mention—fatigue, and the economy and tech-
nique of learning.

But of all the results of educational psychology, perhaps the
most valuable is the slow but progressive inculcation of the
whole teaching profession with a scientific spirit in their work,
and a scientific attitude towards their pupils and their prob-
lems. Matter taught and teaching methods are no longer ex-
clusively determined by mere tradition or mere opinion. They
are being based more and more upon impartial observation,
careful records, and statistical analysis—often assisted by labo-
ratory technique—of the actual behavior of individual children.

464 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

EVOLUTION’S MOST ROMANTIC MOMENT

By Professor ROY L. MOODIE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS MEDICAL SCHOOL

HERE is a small stream in northern Illinois which, since
TT the last great ice sheet retreated, has cut its unhurried
way through some forty feet of glacial alluvium and has thus

xposed in its present bed the shales and rocks of the old Coal
Period which was the witness of Nature’s most important
moment. The old Indian name ‘‘ Mazon” still clings to the
stream and it has become famous the world over for the wonder
and importance of the relics of ancient animal and plant life
found along its banks. Locally the creek is held in contempt,
by the grown-ups as a breeding place for mosquitoes, and by
the small boys because it is nowhere deep enough for a good

oe
Be

Vs
b>

Ss

Contour interval 50 feet

Fic. 1. TopoGrapHic MAP OF THE MAZON CREEK, ILLINOIS, REGION, showing location
of Fossil Beds.

EVOLUTION’S MOST ROMANTIC MOMENT 465

Fic. 2. A shale bed in the banks of Mazon Creek, from which the fossil-bearing
nodules were washed out. One is just sliding down the bank at the head of the
hammer. Nodules thus exposed are split by the action of the frost, or by a blow of
the collector’s hammer, thus revealing the enclosed fossil. Only twelve of these

nodules have contained four-footed animals, in seventy-five years collecting at this
place. ‘

swimming hole; fishing is almost unknown. The winding rip-
ples, however, offer pleasant prospects to the casual visitor and
its banks hold untold treasures for the student of ancient life.

The water has worn its placid way for centuries through
several feet of grayish red shales, washing out an occasional
rounded nodule, which, becoming exposed to the action of the
frost, cracks and thus discloses its buried treasure of Paleozoic
insect, centipede, spider, fish, leaf or, very, very rarely, the re-
mains of the first animal with legs, which resembles so very
closely our present mud-puppies. These small creatures are the
oldest known land vertebrates and represent that inost inter-
esting and romantic phase when the animals which later re-
sulted in the evolution of man were beginning to come out of the
water and live a portion of their existence on land.

It is difficult for us, in these noisy times, to realize the still-
ness which pervaded all nature in this period when the animals
were first considering an existence away from the water. It
took eons of time for them to develop sufficient courage for a
complete separation from their ancestral home. There were no
voices of insect or bird in these later Paleozoic days, and the
stillness was complete save for the wind, the rain and the
thunder. The clouds doubtless sailed as quietly and as beauti-

vor. x1.—30.

PIG. 3. Nature tried the experiment of evolving four-footed animals in several
places at about the same time. Some of her experiments are preserved for us in the
shape of fossils. The one here shown was found by Sir William Dawson in a petrified
tree trunk, on the coast of Nova Scotia. This animal had lost the ability to swim
and is thus a more highly developed stage of animal life than the ones found at
Mazon Creek,

EVOLUTION’S MOST ROMANTIC MOMENT 467

fully through the sky then as now. The sun shone as brightly,
and the rain was as pure and refreshing. There were no
grasses for the raindrops to glisten on and no trees, save only
those of the fern type, where the wind might moan an unheard
complaint. The little creatures of the shore, the highest type of
animal of their day, neither heard nor spoke. They were made
aware of the approach of danger in the water by the sense

Fic. 4. At Linton, Ohio, in the Old Diamond mine, now long since abandoned,
were discovered great numbers of the first animals with legs, though at a higher
stage of development than those from Mazon Creek. The presence of scales on this
fellow, who had a length of some 10 inches, do not indicate a fish ancestry, as might
be supposed, but is rather an adaptation to aquatic life and similar structures are
found even among many of the large reptiles of later times. The fossils of the coal
are thus of the greatest importance in helping us to understand Evolution’s most
romantic moment.

organs in their skin, and on land they trusted to their large

black eyes which set well exposed on top of their flat heads.
These little fellows, whose fossils we find on the banks of

Mazon Creek, were timid adventurers and stayed close to the

468 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

shore of the old brackish bayou, the relics of which have come
down to delight modern students in their attempt to unravel
the story of the old world. None of them exceeded eight or at
most ten inches in length, and they were often surpassed in size
by even the centipedes which crawled through the swamps
with them. But in potentialities of development these small
knights of the Paleozoic surpassed anything the world had
ever seen or will ever see again. They marked an important
stage in this great progression of vertebrate life which has re-
sulted in the development of the animate world as it is to-day.
Had they not ventured on to the land, what to-day would have
been the result? Would the world still be peopled only by deni-
zens of the sea, or would the impulse for a higher life have come

YM

Fic. 5. At the same time, and in the same lake perhaps, with the development
ot four-legged animals which were found at Linton, Ohio, lived creatures which had
either very weak legs, as shown in the upper figure, or none at all, as shown below.
The latter form had lost all vestiges of both limbs and limb girdles.

at some later time? This impulse for a higher existence than
one in the water, the desire to more freely, enjoy the sun and
the earth, must have been very strongly implanted in the Paleo-
zoic creatures, for shortly after, some 10,000,000 years later,
the same experiment was tried in far remote places. Illinois,
however, may claim the credit of being the present spot where
millions of years ago the vertebrate animals, in their desire to
develop into higher beings, first began that most romantic

EVOLUTION’S MOST ROMANTIC MOMENT 469

movement in all evolution. Rather we should say that we see
here, doubtless, the result of millions of years of preparation
for, and a tendency toward, a stage which was in progress
when the world was still quite young.

Evidently this experiment was a success, for we find the
fossils of kindred forms in old tree stumps which have been
washed out of the sea-cliffs of Nova Scotia. These animals,
though still small, were extremely active. Their bodies were
covered with hard scales. They had sharp claws on their feet,
and could not swim, for they had progressed so far in the pas-
sage from water to land that they had all but forgotten the
water, and when they fell into the rain water within an old
hollow sigillarian stump, they drowned and were thus fossilized
to tell the tale to-day. An intermediate stage is found in Ohio,
where they were inhabitants of an old swampy lake in which
they lived by thousands in various stages of development. Dis-
coveries in other parts of the world add but little to our general
conception of this parting point in evolution. While fossils
from Africa, Europe, Australia and India delight our eye and
stir our interest in their diversity of structure, none approaches
so closely to that parting of the ways as the tiny creatures found
on the banks of Mazon Creek, in Illinois. We, as human beings,
are interested in their aspirations, for, had they not aspired to
a life on land, many, many millions of years ago, evolution
would have missed its most romantic moment and the world
to-day would not be what it is. The development of our race
might have been deferred many millenniums.

470 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

AN ANCIENT MOONFISH

By Dr. DAVID STARR JORDAN
STANFORD UNIVERSITY

NE of the strangest of all fishes that swim the seas is the
() great moonfish or Opah, called in California “Mariposa”
(Lamprvis luna Gmelin). It is a broad flat fish almost as deep
as long, with flattened sides, small toothless mouth, and short
tail with strong muscles at its base. It lives in the open seas,
reaching a weight of four hundred pounds, and is likely to ap-
pear on any coast, though always very rarely. It has low fins,
no scales and its body colors are a rich brocade of maroon and
red with white spots of varying sizes and over all a bright sheen
of silver. Its flesh is rich, tender and toothsome, but no person
is likely to taste it more than once, as the fish seldom appears
twice in the same place. Young specimens I have never seen
and I would not know where to look for them, for the fish prob-
ably casts its spawn in the open sea.

Fic. 1. Photograph of a cast by S. F. Denton cf a Lampris luna weighing 100
Ibs. taken at Honolulu. The triangular space between gill opening and ventral is ail
occupied by the shoulder girdle.

AN ANCIENT MOONFISH 471

The one living species of Lampris is not related to any other
existing fish, constituting an order (Selenichthyes) by itself.
It bears some resemblance to the pomfret (Brama) and to other
derivations of the mackerel tribe, but its likeness is superficial
only, and not borne out by the skeleton. The bony framework

Fic. 2. Photograph of the shoulder girdle of a large example from Monterey, pre-
pared by E. C. Starks.

shows many unique features, the most important being the ex-
traordinary development of the shoulder girdle. The clavicle
and hypocoracoid are excessively enlarged and separated by an
interspace, the latter flattened and more or less fan-shaped
downward, both bones being proportionately many times as
large as in any other fish. The hypercoracoid, pierced by a
large foramen, is also much enlarged and so placed that the
actinosts or “‘ wrist-bones”’ of the pectoral fin form a horizontal
series, and the long oar-like fin can move only up and down.
Behind the coracoids—the postclavicle extends as a long spear-
shaped separate bone. Beside these features, the moonfish has
very large and expanded pelvic bones, which support strong

472 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ventral fins each with 15 long rays, a marked contrast to the
one spine and five soft rays of most spiny-rayed fishes.

The extraordinary diatom beds at Lompoc, Santa Barbara
County California, in which four square miles of a Miocene
bay are covered to the depth of 1,400 feet with masses of pure
diatoms, I have discussed elsewhere.t In these beds at one
horizon occur untold millions of skeletons of a small herring
(Xyne grex) while in the upper strata are many remains of
predatory fish which have entered what was once a bottle-
shaped bay in order to feed on herring. This is evident from
the fact that one of the skeletons of a large mackerel has two
herring skeletons in what was once its stomach.

Fic. 3. Skeleton of Lampris zatima taken in the Miocene Diatom beds at
Lompoc, by E. J. Porteous. In this specimen a portion of the hypocoracoid of the left
side appears detached under the other.

Among the relics of these predatory invaders is a very com-
plete skeleton of a second species of moonfish, three feet long
by about two broad. From Lampris luna it differs in the some-
what fewer vertebre and fin rays, and in having the hypo-
coracoid broader, and less rapidly rounded off at its bottom.

1See “A Miocene Catastrophe,” Natural History, XXI., No. 1, pp.
18-22, 1920.

AN ANCIENT MOONFISH 473

Two smaller specimens, apparently of the same species, but
lacking the head and shoulder girdle, had been previously found
at Lompoc. To one of these Jordan and Gilbert (J. Z.) had
given (in 1919) the name of Diatomeca zatima. With the com-
plete skeleton, however, I see no characters by which Diatomeca
can be separated as a genus from Lampris. The extinct moon-
fish of these Miocene Diatom beds may therefore stand as
Lampris zatima. The specimen is one of great interest as show-
ing the antiquity of one of the most singular of all living bony
fishes, and incidentally with other associated forms, the relative
age of the present fish fauna of California.

474 THE

SCIENTIFIC

MONTHLY

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE POPULATION OF THE
UNITED STATES IN 1920

THE Bureau of the Census has
now made public the population of
continental United States and of the
separate states. According to the
enumeration of the fourteenth cen-
sus made this year, the population
was 105,683,108, an increase of 18,-
71C,842, or 14.9 per cent., since 1910.
In 1910 the population of the outly-
ing possessions, Alaska, Hawaii and
Porte Rico, including those abroad
on military and naval service, was
1,429,885. The results of the census
for these possessions are not yet
known and there are no _ correct
figures for the Philippines. It is,
however, estimated that the total
population of the United States and
its possessions is in the neighbor-
hood of one hundred and eighteen
million.

The growth of the country’s popu-
lation, exclusive of the outlying pos-
sessions, is set forth in this table:

Census year, Population. Increase. Pic:
GAOT ve pret eoe 105,683,108 13,710,842 14.9
TOTNOY Reciciete 91,972,266 15,977,861 21.0
9.0 Oe ae 75,994,575 3,046,861 20.7
aNSEO S Gees 62,947,714 12,791,931 25.5
LSS Ooo. 50,155,783 11,597,412 30.1
USOe ache Oot DD Ses c Fal ODOe e226
INSKSO) Seg oc 31,443,32 8,251,445 35.6
Ist) 6 BiG v ous ies 6,122,423 35.9
TSAO cat. 17,069,453 4,203,433 32.7
Ie 0 oo acho 12,866,020 S220 oo
US ZO sees 9,638,453 2,398,572 33.1
ISAO) Aeon aoe 7,239,881 1,931,398 36.4
1800 5,308,483 1,379,269 35.1
LD 0) Rem orate 3,929,214

The fact that the increase in popu-
lation was more than two million
less in the last decade than in the
one preceding is due to war condi-
tions and especially to the cessation
of immigration and the lack of the
children that would have been born

to immigrants. The actual fatal
casualties of the war are a minor
factor, perhaps not more than one
tenth of the deaths from the epi-
demic of influenza, but a decreased
birth rate in the native population
due to war conditions may be as im-
portant as the failure of immi-
gration.

The curves showing the increase
in population in the United States
seems to predict a continually in-
creasing increment of growth. In-
deed, Dr. H. 8. Pritchett, then presi-
dent of the Massachusetts Institute
of Technology, fitted a parabolic
curve to the data, and in an article
published in THE POPULAR SCIENCE
MONTHLY in 1900, predicted that the
population of the country would be
114,416,000 in 1920, and over a bil-
lion a century hence. In a recent
article in the Proceedings of the Na-
tional Academy of Sciences Pearl
and Reed point out that other curves
fit the figures equally well, and are

/more nearly in accord with reason-
able expectation.

They propose a
curve taking into account the food
supply in a limited area, according
to which the period of most rapid
growth ended in 1914, and the maxi-
mum population of the country will
be about two hundred million.
There seems, however, to be no
reason why the increase in popula-
tion should follow a course that can
be represented by any mathematical
formula. The rate of increase in the
United States has been largely due
to immigration, in Russia to the
large birth rate of an agricultural
population with a decreasing death
rate, in Germany to developments
that supported an industrial popula-
tion by commerce. As shown on the
diagram, the curves for the three

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE 475

YEAR

1800 1810 1620 1830 1840 1850

1860 1870 1880 1890 1900

INCREASE OF POPULATION IN THE UNITED
STATES AND THE PRINCIPAL COUNTRIES

OF EUROPE: 1800-1910

©
c

~
°

”
e
re
<
=
o
<
x
=
uw
°o
o
z
2
4
=
=

MILLIONS OF INHABITANTS

o
°

°

1800 1810 1820 1830 1840 1860

°
1860 1870 1880 1890 1900 1910

YEAR

INCREASE OF POPULATION OF THE

nations follow a somewhat similar
course of increasing increments oi
population that can be represented
by a parabolic equation. The catas-
trophe of war has altered the course
of the curves to an extent unknown
except in the United States.

UNITED STATES

AND COUNTRIES OF EUROPE

But apart from
and famine, there new
altering the situation. Two of domi-
nating importance have been the ap-
plications of science to agriculture,
industry and commerce, enabling the
civilized nations to support a popu-

war, pestilence

are causes

476 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

PER CENT OF INCREASE IN TOTAL POPULATION, BY STATES: 1900-1916

NWN
da <i
|

INCREASE OF POPULATION BY STATES. POPULATION PER SQUARE MILE.

lation perhaps four times as great that no equation based on the past
as would otherwise have been possi- | can predict.

ble, and the voluntary limitation of

births. The former of these is re- THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE
sponsible for the curves of popula- POPULATION

tion since 1790. The latter will have THE accompanying diagrams show
an effect during the present century the increase in population by states

POPULATION PER SQUARE MILE, BY STATES: 1910

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE +

Sa |

according to the census of 1910, the Missouri .... %,403,547 3,293,335 3.3
population per square mile and the Montana wat oka 047,593 376,053 45.6

pene ae iat Th Nebraska ... 1,295,502 1,192.914 87
per gon of urban population. W@| Nevada ..... 77,407 81,875 5.5
pepulation of the several states in Hampshire 143.083 130.572 2.9
1920 and in 1910 and the per cent.) New Jersey .. 3,155,374 2.537.167 24.4
of increase are shown in the figures New Mexico . 360,247 327,301 10.1
that follow: New York ... 10,384,144 9,113,614 13.9

North Carolina 2,556,486 2,206,287 15.9

Bopulitlon Por. | North Dakota. 645,730 577,056 11.9

State 1920 1910 Gan itOnIG © «eis ae 5,759,368 4,767,121 20.8
United States. 105,683,108 91,972,266 14.9| Oklahoma ... 2,027,564 1,657,155 22.4
Alabama .... 2,347,295 2,138,093 9.8| Oregon ..... 783,389 672,765 16.4
Arizona ..... 339,213 204,354 63.1| Pennsylvania. 8,720,159 7,665,111 13.8
Arkansas .... 1,750,995 1,574,449 11.2! Rhode Island. 604,397 542,610 11.4
California 3,426,536 2,377,549 44.1) South Carolina 1.683.662 1,515,400 11.1
Colorado .... 939,376 799,024 17.6| South Dakota. 635,839 583.888 8.9
Connecticut .. 1,380,585 1,114,756 23.8)! Tennessee 2,337,459 2,184,789 7.0

PER CENT URBAN IN TOTAL POPULATION, BY STATES; 1910

4

PER CENT URBAN.

(1D Less than 15 per cent.

16 to 25 per cent.

Eg 25 to 50 per cent.

50 to 75 per cent. Vjyye

75 per cent and over. YY

The heavy lines (m=) show geographic divislons. Uj
3

PpR CENT. OF URBAN POPULATION.

Delaware ... 223,003 ZO oon LO GXasS 2. 2: 4,661,027 3,896,542 19.6
Dist. of Col... 437,571 BoUBUGD pce UA os. cst 149 446 373,351 20.4
HLOLIGA eesrere.c 966,296 752,619 28.4) Vermont .... 302,421 355,956 1.0
Georgia ..... 2,894,683 2,609,121 10.9| Virginia ..... 2,306,361 2,061,612 11.9
Nano’ Ryerss 431,826 325,594 32.6; Washington . 1,356,316 1,141,990 18.8
Dinos) Pace. 6,485,098 5,638,591 15.0| W. Virginia . 1,463,610 1,221,119 19.9
Indiana ..... 2,930,544 2,700,876 8.5) Wisconsin ... 2,631,839 2,333,860 12.8
TOW be ots. eters 2,403,630 2,224,771 8.0, Wyoming .... 194,402 145,965 33.2
IANSaS) Noccces 1,769,257 1,690,945 4.6

Kentucky ... 2,216,018 ace ee The largest relative increase has
Louisiana ...° 1,797,798 1,656,388 8.5 ; ae
Maine ...... 768,014 742,371 3.5 been the gain of 63.1 per cent. in

Maryland ... 1,449,610 1,295,346 11.9 Arizona, followed by Montana, Cali-
Massachusetts 3,852,356 3,366,416 14.4 fornia
Michigan ... 3,667,222 2,810,173 30.5
Minnesota ... 2,386,37 2,075,708 15.0
Mississippi .. 1,789,384 1,797,114 0.4 mont, there have been small de-

and Wyoming. For three
States, Mississippi, Nevada and Ver-

478
creases in population, the largest
being for Nevada, 5.5 per cent.

The director of the census has is-
sued a statement according to which
the figures of the present census
show that the trend of population
from the country to the city has be-
come greatly accentuated since 1910
and that, for the first time in the
country’s history,
the entire population is now living
in urban territory as defined by the
Census Bureau. That is to say, of
the 105,683,108 persons enumerated
in the fourteenth census preliminary
tabulations show that 54,816,209, or
51.9 per cent., are living in incor-
porated places of 2,500 inhabitants
or more, and 50,866,899, or 48.1 per
cent., in rural territory.

At the census of 1910 the corre-

sponding percentages were 46.3 and)

53.7, respectively, showing a loss of
5.6 per cent. in the proportion for
the population living in rural terri-
tory. To show more clearly the
change in the proportion of the

now as compared with ten years ago
the rural population can be divided
into two classes, namely, 9,864,196,
or 9.3 per cent. of the total popula-
tion, living in incorporated places of
less than 2,500 inhabitants, and 41,-

002,708, or 38.8 per cent. of the total |

population, living in what may be
called purely country districts.
the census of 1910 the population
living in incorporated places of less
than 2,500 inhabitants formed 8.8
per cent., while the population living
in purely country districts formed
44.8 per cent. of the total population.

The increase since 1910 in the
population as a whole, as before
stated, was 14.9 per cent., but dur-
ing the decade there has been an in-
crease in that portion of the popu-
lation living in urban territory of
12,192,826, or 28.6 per cent., and in
that portion living in rural territory
of 1,518,016, or only 3.1 per cent.;
and if the comparison is extended to

more than half.

At |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTALY

cover the two classes of rural terri-
tory, it appears that that portion
living in incorporated places of less
than 2,500 inhabitants show an in-
crease of 1,745,371, or 21.5 per cent.,
whereas that portion living in purely
country districts shows an actual de-
crease of 227,355.

TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF
JAMES WILSON

SYMPATHY at the death of former
Secretary of Agriculture James
Wilson was sent to his family in the
form of a resolution adopted at a
meeting of the chiefs of the various
bureaus of the United States De-
partment of Agriculture. Tribute
was paid to the former head of the
department for “his patriotic devo-
tion to the interests of all the people,
his broad vision, and his practical
wisdom.” As a token of respect the
flags on all department buildings
were placed at halfstaff, and re-
mained so until after the funeral,

_which took place at Traer, Iowa.
population living in rural territory |

Because of the time of the funeral,
_the department was unable to send
representatives from Washington.
The department, however, desig-
nated Dr. Henry C. Taylor, Chief of
‘the Office of Farm Management,
who was in the Middle West; Frank
S. Pinney, Federal agricultural
statistician at Des Moines; and R.
E. Doolittle, Chief of the Central
Food and Drug Inspection District
at Chicago, to represent it at the
funeral.

A floral tribute was sent by offi-
cials and employees of the depart-
ment as a token of esteem for their
former chief. The message of sym-
pathy sent the family of Mr. Wilson
followed a similar personal message
‘sent by Secretary of Agriculture
Meredith. The resolution of the
‘bureau chiefs, forwarded by Assist-
‘ant Secretary of Agriculture Ball,
‘read:

| The members of the Department

‘of Agriculture, feeling deeply the

Str CLIFFORD ALLBUTT.

Regius Professor of Physics in the University of Cambridge, president of the
British Medical Association for the meeting held during the summer at Cambridge.
A portrait of Sir Clifford by Sir William Orpen was at the time presented to him by
the British medical profession.

480

loss of their former secretary, James
Wilson, of Iowa, desire to express
their sympathy with his family and
their appreciation of his great serv-
ices to the United States as Dean of
Agriculture, member of Congress,
and Secretary of Agriculture. His
patriotic devotion to the interests of
all the people, his broad vision, and
his practical wisdom place him high
among those who have deserved well
of their country. Beloved as a
friend, admired and respected as an
official, his example as a man and a

statesman is one to which all Amer- |

icans may turn for inspiration and
emulation: Therefore be it

Resolved, That in the death of |

James Wilson American agriculture

has lost one of its greatest exponents |

and American citizenship one of its
finest exemplars.

In token of respect the flags on all
department buildings will be placed

at half-mast, and a copy of this reso- |

lution will be sent to the family.

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS
WE record with regret the deaths

of Eric Doolittle, professor of as- |

tronomy in the University of Penn-
sylvania; Samuel Sheldon, professor
of physics and electrical engineering
at the Brooklyn Polytechnic Insti-
tute;
emeritus professor of surgery in the
Medical School of the University of
Maine; Armand Gautier, professor
of biological chemistry in the Paris
School of Medicine, and Karl Her-
mann Struve, director of the Berlin
Observatory.

Dr. LEO S. ROWE, assistant secre-

Frederick Henry Gerrish, |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tary of the treasury and formerly
professor of political science in the
University of Pennsylvania, has as-
sumed the directorship of the Pan-
American Union at Washington, suc-
'ceeding Dr. John Barrett, who has
| retired after fifteen years as head of
the union. Sir F. W. Dyson, astrono-
‘mer royal, Greenwich, has_ been
‘elected an honorary member of the
American Astronomical Society.

AMERICAN nations, as wellas Great
| Britain, Spain and Portugal, are to
be formally invited to participate in
the national festivities in November
-and December in commemoration of
the four hundredth anniversary of
the discovery of the Straits of Ma-
gellan. The festivities will center
principally in Santiago and Punta
Arenas, the latter the world’s south-
ernmost city, where the occasion will
be marked by inauguration of im-
portant public works, including port
improvements, lighthouses in Smith
Channel, a highway between Punta
Arenas and Natales on the South
Atlantic coast and laying of a cor-
nerstone of the Punta Arenas Uni-
versity. It is expected the foreign
delegations will visit the straits in
December, when warships of the
Chilean navy will be assembled there.
It was through these waters that
Ferdinand Magellan, the Portuguese
explorer, first passed in November,
1520.

fHE SCIENTIFIC
MONTHLY

DECEMBER, 1920

AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA'

AN INTRODUCTION TO THE AGED GNOMES OF AN
ALPINE ELFIN-WOOD

By RAYMOND J. POOL

PROFESSOR OF BOTANY, THE UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA

ROM a land of beetling crags and tumbling cascades, from
i a land of snowy summits and booming storms, from a
land of glacier-driven valleys and verdant forests, from a land
of spire-crowned spruces and quivering aspen trees, from the
land of Tahosa comes my story. Tahosa, the land whence
myriads of sparkling mountain fonts bequeath perpetual
laughter to the slender threads which, converging, evolve the
mighty Colorado and start it on its silvery, winding way
through the mighty chasm; a chasm sunken by the slowly
laboring mechanic of the ages into the layered floor of that
great plateau where the soft warm tones of the setting sun re-
flected from rugged cliff and treacherous talus mingle with the
twilight haze of the great southwest.

THE LAND OF TAHOSA

Tahosa is the name that we would now use for one of our
great mountain states had the request of those who petitioned
for statehood been granted. ‘“ Dwellers of the mountain-tops,”
the name is particularly fitting for the state called Colorado, for
that state claims a thousand mighty mountains which raise their
rugged summits to altitudes exceeding two miles above the level
of the far-off sea. There are in Colorado literally scores of
mountain peaks which mount toward the sky beyond 13,000
feet, and many of these even exceed 14,000 feet. So Tahosa
(if we may use the name) is indeed a place of mountain tops.

1[llustrations from Photographs by the Author.

VOL. x1 —31

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GHG SV HWLUOT GNVIS HOTHAM SURI NYOM-TINTDE GNV GUSSOL-NUOLS GHG TO SWUWOL GWIDNVIN GHG NI GUYOUNIW ST OSV OLOVUG V TO ATOUS WAL

AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 483

AT TIMBER-LINE

To one who loves the thrill of the dynamic landscapes of
nature, and who delights in the muscular pull necessary “to go
up to the sky in the mountains” there is no place at once so
alluring and so thought-compelling as timber-line. The ever-
changing forms and phenomena about one lure the climber to
greater and greater heights. The rarefied atmosphere and an
accelerated pulse draw and drive him upward.

At timber-line one beholds the upturned faces of the ancient
past mirrored in the glacier-polished valleys and upon the
‘lichen-covered cliffs of a granite cirque or in the jumbled, boul-
der-strewn moraine. He may read the story of a less ancient
but none the-less tragic past mirrored in the mangled forms of
the storm-tossed and time-worn trees which stand forth as the
alpine outposts of the forest primeval. The spirit of reminis-
cence blows full free upon the visage of those sad and tattered
sentinels of that terrible frontier. One need only to possess the
power to interpret the reactions of those outposts to catch fleet-
ing glimpses of some of the most severe struggles and “last
ditch” stands ever endured by living things. And I would im-
press my readers with the fact that these gnomes of the heights
are living organisms! Many such sentries exposed to the
scathing fire of a relentlessly opposing environment have, how-
ever, long since yielded up the ghost. Their whitened and
eroded forms are being slowly ground away and their dust is
gradually being returned to the barren earth which gave it.

The survivors at timber-line tell their several stories only
to those who are acquainted with their lives and who delight in
reading the dynamic life-histories and the evident struggles
with environmental forces endured by poor dumb things, be-
cause the trees at timber-line, despite their expressive forms,
are no more talkative than their close relatives who enjoy the
equanimity of the mesophilous lowland forests.

So I will endeavor to portray in these few pages, and with
the valued assistance of a few prized photographs, something
of the biologic features characteristic of timber-line in the state
of Colorado, and especially something about the peculiarly
dwarfed and wrinkled and aged trees with which I have become
more or less intimate.

The term timber-line is commonly applied to the upper limit
of tree growth, whether that limit is an alpine or an arctic one.
Beyond timber-line is the land of “little sticks,’’ where there
- are no trees, but only miniature bushes, brilliant alpine flowers,
mosses and lichens, and here and there enticing expanses of

TIMBER-LINE IS SELDOM A CLEARLY CUT AND STRAIGHT BOUNDARY LINE AT A UNI-
FORM ALTITUDE. Usually it is very irregular and jagged and it may swing up and
down through an altitudinal amplitude of a thousand feet.

AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 485

beautiful alpine pastures, the real alps. We must not under-
stand that the upper border of the forest is in fact a clearly cut
and straight boundary line at a uniform altitude or latitude as
the case may be. Timber-line is commonly very irregular and
jagged, and it may swing up and down through an altitudinal
amplitude of a thousand feet or more, even upon a given moun-
tain, or through several miles in the far north. Such fluctua-
tions are related to numerous environmental obstacles some of
which will be mentioned in the succeeding paragraphs.

THE TREES AT TIMBER-LINE

’ I have already stated that the most fantastic forms and per-
haps, therefore, the most interesting phenomena of all in the
most alluring medley of biological conditions at timber-line are
seen in the dwarfed and wizened gnomes of the elfin-forest
frontier. The commonest trees to reach the alpine forest limits
in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado are limber pine (Pinus
flexilis), and Engelmann spruce (Picea Engelmanni). Quak-
ing aspen (Populus tremuloides), Alpine fir (Abies lasiocarpa)
and fox-tail pine (Pinus aristata) also reach the front line
trenches at timber-line, but are less frequently seen in such
places.

The Engelmann spruce is seldom seen in the driest and most
exposed sites. The species typically reaches its upper altitu-
dinal limit in the form of scattered stands or isolated and more
or less dwarfed individuals in the protection afforded by moist
canyon heads. In such places one frequently finds a few poorly
developed, erect, and excessively branched trees fringed at the
base by an impenetrable thicket of scraggly and interwoven
twigs produced by the multiplicity of lateral buds and branches.
Such springy growths are excellent places upon which to enjoy
a siesta, following a difficult climb.

It is quite different, however, for the limber pine which
often braves the elements upon the most exposed ridges where
the outposts endure the buffeting of the dynamic surroundings
for years. This tree is able to maintain a foothold upon dry
open tracts in the very teeth of the furious gales that often
swoop down upon them from the heights.

INDIVIDUALITY IN TREES
The individuality of the limber pines and the range in mor-
phological reactions to the rigorous factors of their most ex-
treme habitats are exceedingly varied and bizarre and are per-
haps not to be equalled by any organism in any environment

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ITS OPTIMUM SITE IS ONE OF THE
It frequently reaches timbe r-line, but it is sel-

En JENGELMANN SPRUCE IN
AMERICAN CONIFEROUS EVERGREPNS.

dom found in the most severely exposed sites on that forest fri ntier.

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AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 489

known to biologists. There are, in fact, scarcely two trees of
this species to be found among the pioneers at timber-line that
closely resemble each other in their bodily forms. Each tree
appears to have worked out the solution of its own individual
salvation under great stress and in its own individual manner.
All this merely emphasizes the scarcely understood fact that
plants do have considerable individuality even if they are not
conscious beings.

The limber pine belongs to the white pine group, a series of
species whose remarkable qualities and beautiful forms are
famous among coniferous evergreens. This species is, how-
ever, a rather small tree, rarely attaining a height of sixty feet
and a trunk diameter of four feet at the base. It is usually a
slowly growing, stout, bristly tree from twenty to thirty-five
feet in height, with a sturdy, rapidly tapering trunk from one
to two feet in diameter at the ground level as it grows in the
more congenial habitats of altitudes below timber-line.

Almost every conceivable modification and deformity of the
limber pines occur upon the wind-swept alpine slopes and ex-
posed, xerophilous ridges at timber-line. In a jagged area of
elfin-wood at an altitude of about 11,000 feet containing sev-
eral hundred individual trees of this species I was able to study
and to photograph scores of morphological variations and ec-
centricities, the most of them peculiar to the timber-line neigh-
borhood.

Sometimes an odd, squatty form of the normal tree is seen
where the blasting effects of the gales are not directly felt.
Such trees may be a scant dozen feet tall, but have developed,
through the long decades of their precarious life, a rapidly-
tapering and gnarled trunk three feet in diameter at the sur-
face of the sterile rock heap in which the cramped roots find
anchorage. These fore-shortened trees are often of great age.

TREES OF GREAT AGE

One can not judge of the age of these timber-line trees by
their size or bulk. If one could evaluate their grizzliness in
terms of years he would thereby be enabled to make a closer
estimate as to their ages, but that is quite impossible. The
layers of growth (the so-called annual rings) in the wood of
such trees are commonly so close together or so thin as to be
indiscernible to the naked eye. The sheeted layers of wood are
often so attenuated that a good hand lens or a dissecting micro-
scope is required to count them with accuracy. I found that
some pieces of the wood of the timber-line limber pines which I

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AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 49]

brought home from one of my trips were of astonishingly slow
growth. Some such pieces were tangential strips of wood, less
than one inch in thickness, and by actual count it was found
that they contained between sixty and seventy annual layers.
Mr. Enos A. Mills, a well-known writer upon the numerous
natural features of the Rocky Mountains, states that there may
be great differences in the ages of timber-line trees standing
close together and that the size of a tree is no criterion what-
ever as to its age. He writes of a tree fourteen feet in height
and sixteen inches in diameter which was three hundred and
thirty-seven years old. Another tree close by was seven feet
tall, five inches in diameter, and it had endured the trying life
on that frontier for four hundred and ninety-two years!
Doubtless many timber-line trees have maintained their uncer-
tain foothold and have pieced out their lingering existence by
the production of a thin new layer of sapwood during each brief
alpine summer since the time when Columbus piloted his frail
caravels across the heaving bosom of the unknown Atlantic.

WIND-CRIPPLED TREES

Besides the diminutive forms of the trees the most evident
effects of the timber-line environment are undoubtedly seen in
the wake of the winds which blow from a more or less constant
quarter. Sweeping over some saddle or booming down the
slopes the thundering blasts strike the sentinels of the forest
and then sweep onward to the main body of trees farther down
the slope. The immediate effect is to produce odd, lop-sided
creatures more or less similar to those seen upon windy sea
coasts. The crowns of the trees become distorted and bent to
the leeward and often the whole tree is thrown out of the per-
pendicular, with a resultant deformity more striking than the
sea-side cripples. The branches on the lee side stretch far out
as if in flight before the oncoming blasts. The lateral twigs
and the normally erect spray become pounded and woven into
most astonishingly abnormal brushes and bristling tufts. The
one-sidedness of such trees is frequently still further empha-
sized because of the failure of the branches to develop on the
windward side or by the cutting away of any such branches by
the incessant beating of the prevailing wind. I have examined
some such trees in which there were absolutely no external in-
dications of there ever having been any lateral branches on the
windward side of the trunk.

The extreme effect of the wind combined with heavy snow-
fall is seen in the development of prostrate trees lying upon

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THE INCESSANT CHISELING OF THE WIND FINALLY ENDS THI LIFE OF rHE DE
FORMED STRUGGLER AND THEN ITS LIFELESS BODY STANDS OUTLINED AGAINST THE HOR
IZON LIKE THD PMACIATED FORM OF A CRIPPLED GIRAFFE GROWN GAUNT FROM LACK OF
FORAGE AND DRINK.

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AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 495

the stony surface of the wind-blown mountain floor. These
trees lie with their coarse roots anchored firmly in the solid
rock of the mountain side, while the heavy trunks stretch away
to the leeward like the undulatory bodies of ponderous pre-
historic saurians. One such tree eighteen inches in diameter
and twenty-five feet long had had all of the branches on the
upper surface planed away by the abrasive sand and sleet car-
ried by the wind, while the living twigs were segregated in the
usual tangles toward the end of the prone form. The flattened
forest at that point as portrayed by the above trees illustrates
the unmistakable influence of the heavy snowfall at high alti-
tudes. None of the trees in that prostrate group raised a twig
higher than five feet above the ground. The most of them were
flattened out and bent to the leeward as though standing in the
path of some mighty beast moving with the breeze and whose
tread had literally tramped the forest to the ground, where the
trees were more or less buried in the débris of the ages. In
less exposed situations the trees assume a more nearly erect
posture, but even there the knotted, twisted and burly forms are
sometimes riven by lightning and disheveled by the blasts of
Boreas and his heavy mantle of snow until they totter like a
drunken man and almost fall to the earth.

The dwarfed, gnarled, twisted and sprawling trees at tim-
ber-line have been known to botanists by the term Krummholz,
which is German for gnarled wood. The term was originally
applied to the high altitude form of the mountain pine (Pinus
montana) of the Alps. In late years it has been used widely as
a general term for the scrubby and bizarre growth of woody
plants at or in the vicinity of timber-line on mountains in any
part of the world. It is surely a very expressive and useful
term.

As one strolls among the various forms at timber-line he
occasionally finds a curious entanglement of scraggly, woody
growth lying in the shelter of a low boulder or snuggling be-
neath the projecting angle of acliff. In such places the branches
and leafy tufts are trimmed smoothly away on a level with the
surface of the protecting obstacle. The twigs of such trees
eften become so densely interwoven and so tough that one may
walk over the prostrate, hedge-like form without breaking far
into the brush beneath the surface.

The degree of exposure to the wind and the influence of
heavy snow appear to be most effective in modifying the forms
of the trees at timber-line. The effects of snow are also seen
far below the upper limit of tree growth, particularly in

496 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

So DEFTLY ARE THESE WIND-CARVINGS EXECUTED BY THE FINGERS OF THE WIND
THAT THBY DEFY THE BEST EFFORTS OF A SKILLED WOOD CARVER WHO WOULD ATTEMPT
TO IMITATB THEM. The above pieces show the effect of wind erosion in compar-

atively straight grained wood.

thickets of quaking aspen trees. There one occasionally notices
that the trees are bent and twisted and crooked into multi-
farious contortions at a certain height. I once saw such a strik-
ing condition in a grove of young aspens about twenty feet tall.
The distorted portions of the trunks were completely confined
to a zone between five and seven feet above the ground. And
every tree of the several hundred in the grove was affected.
Very evidently the cause of such a peculiar-looking condition
was to be found in snow relations, coupled with the growth
habits of the trees.

WIND, THE WooD CARVER AT TIMBER-LINE

An additional point of great interest in connection with my
studies of the Krummholz at timber-line in Tahosa are the fan-
tastic wind-carvings produced in the wood of the decorticated
tree trunks. The winds at timber-line often blow with a high
velocity and then they carry with them quantities of sharply
angular rock fragments weathered away from the very back-

AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 497

bone of the mountains. During the long winter months this
load of abrasive material is augmented by the presence of quan-
tities of snow and ice spicules. The fine mineral particles have
been so recently removed from the parent rocks that they are
exceedingly sharp-angled and pointed. This feature increases
their abrasive influence as they are carried along by the wind.
A winter gale thus laden, sweeping over the heights, may in
truth be said to possess teeth, the “teeth of the storm.”

I have already pointed out the fact that the windward sides
of the tree trunks at timber-line are sometimes devoid of
branches. Frequently the bark also has been cut away from
that side. The tree may be nearly girdled by the powerful
grinding effect of the sand and sleet carried in the high wind.
Often only a slender longitudinal belt of living bark is left on
the lee side of the tree to carry the necessary life-giving sub-
stances from the meagerly developed expanse of foliage to the
hard-working root system pinched and cramped in the crevices
of the rocky substratum. The breakage of this connection is
doubtless an important factor in the final death of the trees
which grow in the most exposed sites. The incessant hammer-
ing and chiseling of the wind ultimately ends the lingering life
of the deformed struggler and then its lifeless body stands
there outlined against the horizon like the emaciated form of a
crippled giraffe grown gaunt from lack of forage and drink.

After the bark has been pulverized and weathered away the
teeth of the wind continue to etch their way into the wood itself.
The thin, young and less resistant sapwood is soon removed
and then the harder, resinous heartwood is attacked, upon the
surface of which are cut the intricate traceries of the fingers of
the wind. So deftly are these carvings executed that they defy
the best efforts of the most skillful wood carver who would at-
tempt to reproduce them. Their imitation is impossible because
the fingers of the wind have felt out the variations in hardness
and structure of the wood with a delicacy of perception far
beyond that possessed by a mere human being. The result is
the production of wood carvings of remarkable beauty and
variety. The unevenly resistant wood and the intricate varia-
tions in the grain of the slowly and irregularly growing wood
are strikingly mirrored in the variation of detail in the indi-
vidual trees. The most beautiful effects of all such wind influ-
ences are seen in those tree trunks and branches in which the
grain is more or less distorted. Thus the spiral growth, wavy
grain effects, and the extreme disturbances of normal wood
structure in knots and burls, coupled with variations in wood

VOL, XI.—32.

498 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

density, are emphasized in a very remarkable and often beau-
tiful degree upon the dead surfaces of the storm-tossed trees at
timber-line. The erosion of the woody bodies continues after
death and serves still further to multiply the fantastic and
weird effects of the environment in which the Krummholz is
developed. Even the fragments of the dismembered bodies of
the ancient gnomes are blown about and sculptured until they
lose nearly all semblance to any plant structure. Waugh’s
uniquely illustrated and more or less spooky fairy tale, ‘‘ The
Clan of Munes,” might find a natural sequel among these
grotesque forms at timber-line.

TIMBER-LINE CONTRASTS

It is only with great difficulty and careful study that the oc-
casional visitor is able to acquire an adequate appreciation of
the peculiarly rigorous environmental conditions at timber-line.
This is particularly true for him whose visits to timber-line are
made only during the relative peace and quiet of a warm sum-
mer day when the alpine meadows and fell-fields are ablaze
with the blooms of gorgeous wild flowers and when all living
nature on the heights is humming with the busy opportunity
for life and propagation afforded by the short hours of a brief
growing season. The first blush of vernal bloom has scarcely
faded upon the alpine heights ere the seeded capsules of arctic
willow and primrose and the hoary plumes of Dryas give warn-
ing of the early approach of old Boreas with his host of forces
to try the last fiber of every living thing at timber-line through-
out the long, cold winter. No more striking contrast can be
found in nature than that seen in the silent places where bril-
liant wild flowers bloom in lavish profusion within the shadow
of frowning cliff and the storm-marked and ghostly Krumm-
holz, where the youthful brook gurgles along its silvery path
hard by where the trustful Ptarmigan silently guards her
young, and where the warm sunshine and cloud-bedecked, sum-
mer sky covers all. John Muir’s words are expressive in this
connection: ‘‘Nature’s sources never fail. Like a generous
host, she offers her brimming cups in endless variety, served in
a grand hall, the sky its ceiling, the mountains its walls, deco-
rated with glorious paintings and enlivened with bands of
music ever playing.”

Besides the limber pine and the Engelmann spruce which
enter most prominently into this sketch there are several other
species of coniferous trees which reach timber-line in other por-

AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 499

tions of the continent. White spruce (Picea canadensis) and
balsam fir (Abies balsamea) in the New England mountains;
alpine fir (Abies lasiocarpa), white-bark pine (Pinus albi-
caulis), and fox-tail pine (Pinus aristata) in the Rocky Moun-
tains; and the mountain hemlock (Tsuga mertensiana) from
Oregon to Alaska are other trees which share in the develop-
ment of timber-line phenomena.

The altitude of the alpine timber-line varies more or less in-
versely with latitude, z.e., the upper limit of tree growth on
mountains is encountered at a lower altitude as one travels
northward, as latitude increases the altitude of timber-line de-
creases. In the far north timber-line comes down to the shores
of the icy sea shortly beyond the Arctic circle. The altitude of
timber-line in the Canadian Rockies varies from 5,000 to 6,000
feet. On Mt. Rainier it is about 7,000 feet, while in central
Colorado it is reached between 10,000 and 12,000 feet. The
highest timber-line in the world is said to occur in Mexico, as
on Mt. Orizaba, at an altitude of 14,000 feet, which is reached
by Pinus strobiformis, one of the southwestern white pines.

THE CAUSES OF TIMBER-LINE REACTIONS

The limitation of tree growth at certain altitudes in the
mountains has never been adequately explained. Unquestion-
ably the cause or causes are to be found somewhere in the maze
of interacting or overlapping factors brought to bear upon the
life at timber-line. The ecological relations there are appar-
ently very complex and until much more quantitative research
has been completed within those dynamic habitats biologists
will be unable to point out the cause of timber-line with surety.
The effects of wind are unmistakably chiseled into the promi-
nent reactions of the trees, some of which have been poorly and
inadequately described in the preceding paragraphs. The effect
of heavy and long-persisting beds of snow are probably of im-
portance in restricting the growth of forests at high altitudes.
Certain investigators have felt that snow is the chief factor
which inhibits the development of a forest of normal trees at
certain altitudes and is responsible for the development of
alpine grasslands instead of forest. Others believe that the
desiccating influence of the winds, coupled with a deficiency of
available water supply at the roots and a low temperature,
largely explain the stunted nature of the woody growth at tim-
ber-line. Atmospheric rarity, intense insolation, rapid radia-
tion, low relative humidity, and short growing seasons have

300 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

also been proposed as playing important roles in the production
of alpine dwarfs and possibly in actually causing timber-line.

Experiments appear to have demonstrated that the dwartf-
ing is actually due to the alpine conditions. Portions of alpine
plants moved to the lowlands promptly awakened from their
dwarfed state and developed the characteristic lowland forms
with tall stems, while portions of lowland plants established in
alpine sites promptly became dwarfs.

Snow-cripples, drought-cripples and dwarfs as well as wind-
cripples and dwarfs probably occur within timber-line areas.
Numerous similarities existing between alpine and polar growth
forms and the vegetation of desert lands have led to the belief
that the whole relation is one of aridity. Arctic-alpine habitats
have been included among the desert series in ecological classi-
fications of habitats.

The prevailingly low temperature summation is doubtless of
great importance in limiting the activities of the plants at tim-
ber-line and consequently in modifying the growth forms most
efficient or possible there. In this connection I once recorded
some observations upon the matted forms of the alpine pink
(Silene acaulis) growing in a gravelly slope on Mt. Garfield in
the vicinity of Pikes Peak. The flat, bristly, mat-like plant,
beautifully radiate in form, was about eighteen inches in diam-
eter and was growing where it was partially shaded by a large
boulder. The shaded portion of the mat was evidently not in
as good condition as the portion which received the direct rays
of the sun, in fact it possessed many of the well-known weakly
characteristics of shade plants in general. But the influence of
the sun (heat or light) was very evident the day I made the ob-
servations because of the production of flowers on the plant.
The arctic pink at blooming time is often literally covered with
scores of the beautiful pink flowers about five-sixteenths of an
inch wide. The lighted portion of the mat in this case, the por-
tion receiving the direct rays of the sun at noon-day, was about
one half of the whole plant and was blooming profusely, while
the portion in the cool shade of the rock showed very few open
flowers or flower buds.

A primary task of all green plants in timber-line situations
is certainly to utilize the heat and light of the sun in the manu-
facture of the food supply necessary for leaf and root formation
and for reproduction if they are to remain in such places. Es-
sential nutritive materials must be secured via the root-system
from the cold soil solution at the same time. Any condition of

AT TIMBER-LINE IN THE LAND OF TAHOSA 501

air or soil which tends to block these fundamental processes for
long periods of each year strikes at the very life of the plants
in question, and consequently would exert a significant influence
upon the initial establishment and the subsequent success of the
plants on the heights.

These are but a few of the impressions and problems which
are suggested on every side to the inquisitive wanderer among
the plant pigmies at timber-line in the land of Tahosa.

502 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC
PSYCHOLOGY’

By Professor KNIGHT DUNLAP
THE JOHNS HOPKINS UNIVERSITY

T is a matter of common report that never before has there
been in the United States such an interest in psychology
as is now evidenced in manifold ways. There is an increased
enrollment in psychology classes in colleges and universities.
There is an increased sale of books bearing upon various phases
of psychology, and a heightened activity in the writing of such
books. There are demands coming from the commercial and
industrial fields, for experts in psychology, and for psycholog-
ical methods. There is an awakening of interest in psychology
in the ranks of those who have to deal with social and economic
problems, and there are signs that among the members of
the medical profession the need for psychology will soon be
recognized.

There is an especially significant demand for applied psy-
chology; not only for the applications of mental tests, but also
for the application of the laboratory research methods to prob-
lems of industry, of education, and of hygiene. The resources
of my own laboratory, for example, have for the past year been
very largely devoted to work laid upon us by the American
Committee for the Study of the Tobacco Problem. It is note-
worthy also, that large industrial and commercial corporations
are now seeking for experimental psychologists to conduct re-
search for them along specific lines of scientific need.

The increase of interest in psychology is being shown also
in the great vogue of the mental testing of school children, and
in the application of mental tests to applicants for entrance to
college, as well as in the concomitant rapid increase in the types
and forms of single and composite tests.

The interest which is apparently active, is unfortunately
not shown in the way on which psychologists themselves would
lay the most stress, as indicating a substantial, rather than
ephemeral interest: namely, in the increased provisions for the
adequate training of psychologists, and the increased provisions

1 Presidential address before the Southern Society for Philosophy and
Psychology, New Orleans, April 23, 1920.

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 503

for the effective working of psychologists along the lines of
pure science. Perhaps this provision will come as a natural
result of the wave of popular interest: perhaps it will not come
unless definite measures are taken to bring it about. This un-
certainty must cause us to pause in our self-congratulations, to
consider whether, after all, psychology is experiencing a
healthy growth, or a process of inflation, or even a sort of para-
sitic growth which may sap its strength and lead ultimately to
its downfall and disrepute.

We must admit that the large growth of interest of which
I have just spoken, is a growth in interests in various sorts of
things, which happen to be included or held together by the
name “Psychology,” but whose actual affiliations with each
other require careful determination before we can accept the
mass as one subject. Some of the lines of growth of so-called
psychological interests are destructive of other lines; and while
it is true superficially that there is this great increase in what
is called “psychology,” it may not be true that this interest
coincides with that which many of us hold to be the essential
spirit of psychology.

It is a matter of common knowledge to all, that not every
one who labels himself a “‘ psychologist,” or to whom the label
is tossed by journalist and popular writer, is entitled to the
designation. We are frequently reading, or being told, that
“psychologists now admit thus and so”: or, “an eminent psy-
chologist claims such and such”: and then, on further inquiry,
finding that the eminent psychologists referred to are Pro-
fessor Oscar Loon, Caroline Greenfield, and W. H. Spinks, M.D.
We find also an appalling number of self-annointed “ psychol-
ogists” in the industrial field, industriously selling psycholog-
ical gold bricks to the gullible business man, and raising thereby
obstacles to real industrial psychology which will long endure.

It is sometimes difficult to explain to the layman the differ-
ence between the real psychologist and the alleged psychologist.
We can, however, usefully point out a fairly accurate basis of
discrimination based on the endorsement of the American Psy-
chological Association, and deny that any one not a member of
that Association can be recognized as an “eminent” American
psychologist unless specifically endorsed in some other way by
that association. The conditions attending the present wide
interest in psychology and pseudo-psychology make it impera-
tive that we guard membership in the American Association
more carefully in the future than we have in the past, and
admit to official recognition no one who may use his endorse-
ment to the detriment of science.

504 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The assumption by unauthorized parties of the function of
the psychologist is not, however, the only symptom of the seri-
ousness of the situation in which psychology finds itself at the
present time, nor is it the most serious symptom. We might
expect to find a common interest in psychology and a common
purpose in respect to it, among those who not only are en-
dorsed by the official company of psychologists, but are still
further accredited by specific appointment to positions in psy-
chology in our great institutions of learning. But here we find
so great a diversity that it would seem that an increase in in-
terest in what some of these men call by the name of psychol-
ogy is a withdrawal of interest from what some of the others
call by that venerable name. We find in the list of accredited
psychologists, for example, those reactionaries who would have
no advance beyond the conceptions of John Locke and Wilhelm
Wundt, and also those radicals who would altogether abandon
psychology as it is historically known, and would admit the
possibility of no biological science beyond physiology.

Our diagnosis of the weakness of the present psychological
situation can not stop even here. We find among us those who,
regardless of their being otherwise reactionaries or radicals,
or even moderate conservatives, are weakening in their devo-
tion to science; and to whom her hard discipline is becoming so
irksome that they are favorably disposed to that mysticism
which is ever the enemy outside our gates. These faint-hearted
ones have sounded the praises of the alien goddess, and have
proposed the surrender of the citadel to her forces. This dan-
ger may not be so serious as it seemed two or three years ago,
but it is not yet absent.

Such is the situation. And in the face of this, the need in
society for a real and constructive psychology is becoming daily
more specific and more urgent. This need we seem to be sup-
plying only in a small measure, and I believe we can supply it
with any degree of adequacy only by means of a greater em-
phasis on the scientific aspect of psychology.

To make my meaning clear, I must insist upon the distinc-
tion between the various arts which derive their support and
extension from psychology, and psychology itself. I shall in-
sist in the second place upon the distinction between psychol-
ogy in the general or inclusive sense, and that particular sort
of psychology to which I am here applying the term Scientific.
In order to further my exposition I shall also assume two postu-
lates which I do not care to defend at the moment, but which
I think no one would wish to dispute.

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 505

The first postulate is: That a science which makes no ap-
preciable progress in its conceptions and methods is dead. The
other is: That a proposition to sweep aside the history of a
science and start completely anew is suicidal; that it is an ad-
mission that the newly proposed scientific foundation is as in-
secure in value as the rejected foundation is declared to be.

Of the value of the psychological arts there can be no doubt.
I do not wish to be understood as in the least hostile to the arts,
for such would be a complete misunderstanding of my mean-
ing. On the contrary, I am profoundly interested in the ex-
pansion of these arts, and am personally engaged in the
furthering of several of them. Nevertheless, my interest in the
present discussion is in the science which underlies these arts,
and which has values not only in its fostering these arts, and
as pure science, but also in direct relations to society which are
entirely independent of its functions as exercised indirectly
through the psychological arts.

It has been said by some of those who were concerned in the
application of the well known Army Mental Tests, that there
was no psychology involved in either the construction or the
application of these. Some of those here present have heard
_ this statement emphatically made. Men who themselves are
presumably well grounded in psychology, and who have held
academic positions in psychology, have averred that in the
army work they neither used nor needed anything that they
had learned in any course in psychology or in a psychological
laboratory.

I must say that, with all due respects to those who make
this claim, I do not think they are right in their analysis. If
this were so, it would indeed be a strange thing that the work
of psychologists was required for the construction of the tests,
and for the organization of their application: and we should
have to look for some reasonable explanation for the fact that
this work waited on the efforts of the psychologists. But
nevertheless, underlying this claim there is a fact which we
must give consideration. We must admit that after such tests
are compiled and organized, the giving of such objective tests
is merely a matter of technique, requiring a special clerical
training, which may be acquired by any one of the requisite
native intelligence and general education, without any orienta-
tion in the matters which are generally contained in lecture and
laboratory courses in psychology. It is also true that a consid-
erable amount of success has been obtained in the selecting, if
not in the construction, of such tests, by persons wholly devoid

506 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of psychological training: in fact, in the field of commercial
applications by men whose psychological training has a nega-
tive value.

It is true, moreover, that the greatest source of the evil
which flows from the widespread ‘mental testing” carried on
in schools by enthusiastic teachers, and others, is not the igno-
rance of general psychology which these “ wild” testers show,
but their lack of training in the technique of giving and inter-
preting the tests. The successful giver of tests need know
nothing of the results of research on memory, or space percep-
tion, or any other department of psychology. It makes no dif-
ference for his work whether he assumes that the soul is a real
spiritual essence, or a material substance which is visible after
death as a ghost, or that there is no soul. He may believe con-
sciousness to be an act, a stuff, or a myth. He may be a Chris-
tian Scientist, a Theosophist, or a Hegelian. He may know
nothing of the niceties or the difficulties of threshold deter-
mination.

It is true that the fundamental parts of the technique re-
quired are inculcated in psychological laboratories. But so is,
in far greater measure, the technique which the oculist requires
(and usually does not possess). This would be a relevant
matter only if we should find out that, after all, psychology is
nothing but technique—a conclusion which I certainly shall not
admit as yet.

What we are bringing out clearly here is, that the whole
subject of mental testing is an art, and that like any art, it may
go a great way without any scientific foundation. But this is
not the same as the admission that there zs no scientific foun-
dation, or that the art can without detriment to itself, dis-
pense with the foundation. It is true that we have at least one
example of an art which has reached a high stage of develop-
ment with practically no scientific foundation at all. This is
the art of music, which is a most finished and practical art, al-
though there is almost nothing in the way of a scientific basis
for it. But we need not stop to point out that the conditions
under which this art has arisen are sharply different from
those surrounding other psychological arts.

Other psychological arts which might be mentioned along
with what for convenience we call ‘‘mental testing” are: hyp-
nosis, character analysis, and education in the restricted mean-
ing of the term. The first two of these have languished for
lack of a psychological scientific foundation which I believe will
eventually be supplied, and the third is the grand example of
the value of that foundation.

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 507

It is not necessary for my purpose to go further into de-
tails on this point, but rather is it expedient to consider the
nature of the science which I have assumed as underlying
the arts.

The two great and inexorable conditions laid upon every
science are that it shall in the first place be empirical, and in
the second place that it shall be logical. Without an empirical
basis of fact, even with the utmost logical consistency, we can
evolve nothing more than an ingenious speculative system.
- Without logical consistency in reasoning, the attempt to explain
facts results in nothing more than mythology. These condi-
tions are laid upon psychology no less than upon physics and
chemistry, and the chief hindrances of psychology in the past
have been the results of the difficulty in approximating to both
of these ideals. At the present time, the movements which
threaten to disrupt or destroy psychology can be analyzed into
omissions of scrupulous regard for one or the other of these
great principles.

Many attempts have been made to construct psychological
systems on a defective empirical basis. Such a system was
constructed with brilliant regard for consistency by William
James, and called by him the “stream of consciousness.” It
was finally discarded by him because he subsequently recog-
nized that he had omitted the empirical basis, and so had elabo-
rated a theory of the “‘mind” defective only in one respect, but
in the vital respect, that there was no evidence that any such
mind ever existed.

In a still more thoroughgoing way, Malebranche constructed
the system so beautifully presented in his Dialogs: the system
which so impressed John Locke and George Berkeley that
they expanded it, and passed it on through Hume and Kant
into the Anglo-German psychology which still clings to it, in
spite of the unmistakable lack of an empirical basis.

The most recent construction of this a priori sort is the
psychology which calls itself Behaviorism, which reaches a con-
clusion apparently quite different from that of the reactionary
psychology, but by the same method. And of the making of
more systems there is no end, so long as we start from concepts
instead of facts.

The effects of the neglect of the other principles of science
(logical consistency) are perhaps most strikingly illustrated in
the system or group of systems which are variously known as
“ Psycho-analysis,” ‘‘Freudianism,”’ or “The newer Psychol-
ogy.” While the fundamental defect of this system is its lack

508 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

of an empirical basis, it reaches its most astonishing results by
the complacent ignoring of the elementary principles of de-
ductive and inductive reasoning. But psycho-analysis is by no
means the only sinner in this respect, even if it be the most
flagrant one. So long as we maintain our calm indifference to
the meanings of the terms we use, preferring to keep the mean-
ings vague so that we can juggle them as we need to make them
serve our purposes, psychology is certain to be prevented from
reaching its place as one of the sciences.

There is a consensus of opinion historically as to the data
with which psychology ought to start. Aristotle, whom we
rightly regard as the founder of the science, mapped its em-
pirical basis with fair accuracy. The psychologists who fol-
lowed him, even Malebranche and his disciples, were really
seeking to start from the same facts. We are by no means jus-
tified in discarding the efforts of these men, but rather we owe
it to them, as to their heirs, to better their efforts and avoid
their failures, as we trust that our successors will better our
efforts and avoid our failures.

The situation in which psychologizing begins, and hence,
from which the science of psychology starts, is the being aware
of objects: and unless psychology starts from this it does not
start at all. This is the history of the science, and this is the
conclusion to which any one must come who searches to-day
for an empirical basis on which to build a science which will
not be merely a misnamed part of some other science. On the
other hand, this is a real empirical basis, since being aware of
things is an undeniable fact, however we may ultimately ex-
plain or analyze it.

This empirical basis at once excludes behaviorism, which
may be a perfectly legitimate part of physiology, but as an at-
tempt at psychology it is ruled out as non-empirical, since it
does not stand on the basis of the complete empirical] situation.

Further examination of the facts of experience (as we cus-
tomarily name the empirical basis of psychology) reveals three
facts, which are revealed as facts, and not as inferences.
First, that awareness occurs in typical cases and in very many
cases, in conjunction with bodily activities of the type which
we designate as reactions: that, for example, the awareness of
a colored object is strikingly bound up with such reactions as
touching the object, moving the head, or with reactions of the
visual organs. Second, that there are two distinguishable ways
of being conscious of a thing, one of which we commonly desig-
nate as perception, and the other way as imagining or thinking.

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 509

Third, that perceiving and thinking alike have in very many
cases a peculiarity which we roughly describe as personal; 2.e.,
that each occurrence of awareness tends to have something
about it, a “reference,” which we express by saying not merely
“perceive,” but “I perceive.”

Now these are empirical facts. And by continued observa-
tion we make other and more detailed observations of fact.
But it is important to note the limitations of that which we
observe, and the ease with which we pass from these to assump-
tions which we subsequently confuse with observed facts. Des-
cartes, for example, after pointing out the personal nature of
consciousness, assumed it to be a universal peculiarity, and as-
sumed that the “I” has certain characteristics such as substan-
tiality, which are not empirically observable. Others have
assumed that the awareness (which is the abstract term for
the several acts, or facts of being aware) is itself a thing, and
capable of being an object of awareness. Others have assumed
that the awareness and the thing of which I am aware are iden-
tical. These assumptions, upon being made, lead to systems of
psychology which might possibly be true, but which are not em-
pirical. The assumption of the identity of the awareness and
the thing of which, has had especially serious results, since it
permits the substitution of the one for the other in reasoning,
leading to complicated conclusions which have only conjectural
validity, and hence make the whole system conjectural.

Scientific psychology, because of its compulsion to be scien-
tific, must avoid these assumptions of fact. And yet it can not
advance with the mere observation of detached and fragmen-
tary details. It, therefore, having established itself on a scien-
tific empirical basis, adopts the scientific method to which it is
now entitled, namely, the framing of working hypotheses: and
the progress of psychology, like that of all other sciences, is
solely a matter of the framing, modifying, and rejecting of
working hypotheses, on the basis of empirical observation and
through close logical reasoning.

The primary working hypothesis of modern scientific psy-
chology, arrived at by a long series of modifications, is the
reaction hypothesis. This hypothesis is to the effect that
awareness is always conjoined with reaction, or with vestigial
reaction. This second clause is not to be neglected, as the
hypothesis is not valid without it. There are various ways of
expressing the hypothesis, which are practically equivalent, but
which have differing appeal for different psychologists. Thus,
I prefer to say that awareness is caused by reaction: but those

510 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

who have a definition of cause which differs from the one I
would accept may object to that statement.

This principle, however we may formulate it, is a working
hypothesis, and nothing more. But with prolonged observation
failing to show positive exceptions, and with verification by the
usual scientific procedure of deduction and test, it becomes a
fixed principle, valid, like the law of gravity, so long as we
acknowledge its nature; and it is subject, like that law, to modi-
fication when facts are found which indicate the necessity of
modification.

The scientific results of this hypothesis are far-reaching;
explaining phenomena already observed; initiating research
along various lines in which the consequences of the principle
can be deduced and put to test; and correcting inadequate con-
clusions of the past based on less adequate hypotheses. Into
the details of these we can not here go, but I may point out as
an extreme example, that “innate ideas”? which were so im-
pressively demolished by Locke, are now by no means to be
ignored, but that on the contrary, their existence is quite prob-
able, as biological analogies suggest they should be. Other
important consequences I shall mention later.

The empirical basis of scientific psychology excludes the
Malebranchian dualism of mental object and physical object,
and with it the tedious sham battle between “ interactionism ”
and “psychophysical parallelism.” It also removes the bug-
bear of solipsism, which has darkened the lives of not a few
psychologists of the past. These results are not due to the
working hypothesis, although strongly consistent with it, but
are the direct result of insistence on empiricism. In these re-
spects a concrete progress is attained at once, and hence we
may reasonably designate attempts to revive the psychology of
“mental objects,” or “‘ observable mental states” as reaction-
ism, and like all reactionism, a strong ally of radicalism, which
in this case is represented by behaviorism.

Scientific psychology, as I have been describing it, is the
legitimate and desirable outgrowth of the scientific progress of
the past, and neither on the one hand a revolutionary program,
nor on the other, an undue reliance on the accomplishments of
our fathers, which no longer suffice in the changing order of
social needs. And it is the social need of the fostering of this
scientific psychology of which I wish especially to speak to-night.

One of the social problems now confronting us, and one with
which scientific psychology is especially competent to deal, is
the enormous spread and influence of mysticism and pseudo-

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 511

mysticism. Perhaps the pseudo-mysticism of spiritualism,
telepathy, and all the train of table-tipping, ouija-boarding,
levitation and dowsing which goes with these, furnish the most
spectacular anti-scientific demonstration of our times. Yet the
growth and power of philosophical mysticism, with its definite
principles, and fully oriented antagonism to scientific method,
is possibly a more serious danger. If one takes account of the
remarkable increase in the sale of the books of Underhill, Inge,
and others who represent to-day the ancient theories of Plotinus
and of Dionysius the Areopagite; if one considers the increased
number of such books, and the active propaganda of the mystics
in the magazines of supposed culture; one will be impressed
with the fact that this system is at least as fully alive and in-
fluential as it was in the days of Meister Eckhardt and Tauler.

Philosophical mysticism makes its attack upon science
through the rejection of the psychological doctrine of knowl-
edge; and if it can succeed in overturning this, its demolition
of the fundamental methods of all science is well begun. Psy-
chology is, in short, the keeper of the gate against this enemy,
and is responsible to the whole of science for its defense. |

The psychology of the past has fought a good fight against
mysticism: it is demanded of us that we fight a better fight.
This we can do only by consolidating our ground and improv-
ing on the weapons which have so far served; we can not do it
by throwing away our arms and abandoning our advantage.
Scientific psychology is a consolidation of our ground, because
it makes the scientific doctrine of cognition, hitherto somewhat
vague, precise and definite, and knits it up with our great fund
of acquisitions in biology. No one can accept the fundamental
hypotheses of scientific psychology and be in the least mystical.
We have progressed beyond the loose conception of a conscious-
ness which may have two, or three, or four, or more different
varieties within it, and which is confused by the baffling ques-
tions of parallelism and interactionism. We have developed
the conception of a single sort of consciousness whose condi-
tions are definitely known, and this conception is so linked with
empirical facts and the fundamental working hypothesis as to
preclude the possibility of a “third kind of knowledge.” More-
over, the very facts of the mystic experience itself are so com-
pletely explained on the reaction hypothesis, that the mystics
are made to testify to the futility of their theory.

Against the pseudo-mysticism of spiritualism and its occult
train, psychology is again the defender of the scientific faith.
So well has psychology maintained its honor in this respect,

512 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

that it is obvious to him who runs, that the study of psychology
is the best possible antidote against occultism. The very fact
that the company of scientific men who have fallen into the
snare of the “strange woman” of occultism is conspicuously
evoid of psychologists is significant. And the scientific psy-
chology based on the biological reaction is more solid, and better
prepared against this enemy than was the older psychology.
Since it bases all conscious processes on stimulation, and makes
thought, as well as perception, depend on reaction, it can more
easily explain the lack of evidence for telepathy on the one
hand, and on the other hand it can explain how the sincere
medium can be deceived by the occurrence of expressions of
which she is not conscious until she speaks or writes them.
Through its keener understanding of the relation of motor and
conscious processes, moreover, it facilitates the work of detect-
ing the mechanisms through which the apparently occult effects
are produced. Its fighting superiority in these regards, over
the psychology which preceded it, is evidenced by the fact that it
is never driven to refuge in the depths of the subconscious or
unconscious, as the older psychology sometimes was.

In the fight against mysticism and pseudo-mysticism, psy-
chology has a duty to perform, both to science and to society,
which it can not shirk. And it can not perform this duty
through devotion to the psychological arts. The highest devel-
opment of mental testing, for example, though immensely valu-
able in other ways, can have no function in this battle. Be-
haviorism, on the other hand, is an avowed pacifist doctrine
which abandons the battle from the start, by disclaiming any
responsibility for that over which the battle is waged. If our
enthusiastic devotion to the psychological arts diverts so much
attention, and so much energy, from the scientific work in our
laboratories and the scientific instruction in our systematic
courses that we go back upon the work of our fathers, and for-
sake the sacred task of defending our sister sciences and our
culture: if we neglect the duty that they have entrusted to us:
then our gains are to be counted losses, and our pride in our
accomplishment is a disgrace.

The demand for scientific psychology to withstand mysti-
cism and occultism is after all a demand laid upon it as the rep-
resentative of the historic stem of psychology, and it might be
a question whether, in spite of the claims I have here made, it
can fight this fight better than its mother, or whether it fights
with any other weapon than those she has used with honor.
We may indeed pass this point over, pointing out only that the

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 513

fight is laid at least upon the lusty child as well as its mother,
and that psychological radicalism yields the fight altogether.

There is, however, another force arrayed against biological
science and against social progress which nothing but scientific
psychology seems able to withstand. This force is the so-called
“new psychology” or psychoanalysis of Freud and his fol-
lowers, which lays claim not only to the field of psychology, but
also to the fields of literature, art, religion, history, politics,
and archeology.

Psychoanalysis threatens the older psychology not so much
with demolition as with absorption. Developing its doctrines
on the very conception of a world of psychic objects or ideas
which the older psychology postulates, it merely extends this
conception in certain directions, giving to the ideas a little more
independence, a certain energy in their own right, and a power
of existence as psychic objects when one is unconscious of them.
Psychology may object to this extension, but the legitimacy
thereof can not positively be disproved without rejecting the
conception of psychic objects themselves. Hence, we are not
surprised to find that many of those who held to the older psy-
chology have given up to the Freudians and have put on their
uniform, and that those who have not given up seem to offer a
futile resistance. The Freudian propaganda proceeds by leaps
and bounds, and Freudian books can not be produced in great
enough quantity, nor their prices be put high enough, to fill the
demand. The Behaviorists here also are of no help in the fight.
There is for them theoretically nothing to fight about, and as a
matter of fact the majority of them seem inclined to join the
enemy.

The infiltration of psychology by Freudianism proceeds so
fast that already much of the established data of psychology
has been appropriated and woven into Freudianism in such a
way that the rank and file believe Freud originated all psy-
chology. One is informed that no one ever supposed that these
were definite causes of mental phenomena before Freud discov-
ered them: it is even implied that the association of ideas was
a Freudian discovery: and one who admits that sex has some
importance in individual and social thought life is classed by
the rabble as a Freudian at once.

The danger from psychoanalysis comes much nearer home
to psychology itself than does the danger from mysticism and
occultism. Interest is diverted directly from psychological re-
search wherever Freudianism thrives. Experimental work is
not encouraged by the Freudians, because they have a schematic

VOL, XI.—33.

514 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

explanation of everything on a priort principles. Thus the sup-
port and encouragement which the experimental psychologist
needs for the promoting of his work tends to be withdrawn
where psychoanalysis rears its head as arrival. That this dis-
couragement of, and opposition to, psychology reacts on the
psychological arts, many of you know from your own expe-
rience.

But even here, I do not wish to stress the interests of psy-
chology itself, but rather to emphasize its duty to general sci-
ence and to society at large. In the present emergency, men of
other sciences look to psychology for light and information
concerning the large claims of psychoanalysis. And the light
of psychology seems too dim, and its voice is too much enfeebled
to carry far into the crowd. Upon us also is the responsibility
to protect society from charlatanism and superstition. And if
we allow psychology to become merely a synonym for Freud-
ianism, we put ourselves in the position of silly sheep whose
clothing the wolves are wearing.

Scientific psychology is the sure antidote for Freudianism
because of its three essential characteristics: its empirical
basis, its logical method and its fundamental working hypoth-
esis that the fact of consciousness is uniformly connected with
reaction. Refusing the a priori concept of a world of mental
objects, and adopting the empirically given fact of being con-
scious, scientific psychology removes the ground on which the
doctrine of “unconscious consciousness” is based; and by em-
phasizing in its working hypothesis the continuity and common
ground of habits of action and habits of thinking, and their
essential interrelation, scientific psychology explains the facts
of conscious life, whether of waking life or of dreams, without
leaving any function for the mystic “ unconsciousness,” even
if one should wish to posit it.

Furthermore, by its insistence on the fundamental logical
precaution of using a term only in a definite and uniform sense,
scientific psychology destroys the method of procedure which
Freudians borrow from the mystics, which method consists in
employing the well-known logical fallacy of the ambiguous
middle term. Robbed of the easily shifting meanings of libido,
sexual, unconscious, and the other stock terms, and with the
light turned on its a priori basis, the Freudian system goes to
pieces inevitably.

These needs for psychology which I have been presenting
are of a definite, if negative, nature. Psychology is needed to
ward off the assaults of definite forces directed against the in-

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 515

tegrity of science and the intellectual values in society. But
there are other needs, of a positive sort, which unfortunately
are less definite although no less important. These needs are
more strictly social than the ones we have been considering.

Society is in a state of extreme restlessness. Social prob-
lems are perhaps no more pressing today than they have been
in every period, but the recognition of these problems is cer-
tainly more clear. Our political system is being questioned and
attacked. There are those who proclaim in essays, in books
and in editorials in our most respectable journals, that democ-
racy is a failure, that the declaration of independence is an ab-
surdity, and that the rights of man are a nuisance. Compared
with the feeble efforts of the Bolshevists, these attacks upon
our governmental system are enormously more unsettling.

Aside from the shaking of the foundations of government,
our whole attitude towards laws, and the making of laws, is in
flux. And our conceptions of economic principles and economic
ideals are not as firmly fixed as they were. People are seriously
questioning the rights of property, so long held sacred, and
asking whether it is not necessary for social welfare that these
rights should be modified. The question of population is being
given a new sort of consideration, and immigration and the
birth rate are being made problems dependent upon principles
of eugenics and the raising of standards of comfort and culture,
rather than matters of religion and pride of magnitude. There
is a growing tendency to treat all social problems, including
problems of economics and political problems, not as mere mat-
ters of blind principle, but as matters for scientific and ethical
determination. And men are seeking for light on these prob-
lems, and for relief from prejudice, as they have never sought
before.

In this situation it is well that we should ask ourselves: What
is psychology doing for the advancement of the solutions of our
social problems? The answer is—nothing. Most of you per-
haps think that psychology can do nothing, and that no respon-
sibility rests upon it. You will undoubtedly agree with me that
while clinical psychology and criminal psychology, and allied
branches, have great value as sources of ameliatory measures
in the conditions which confront us, they offer nothing towards
the basic improvement of these conditions. The psychological
arts contribute to the solution of our social problems no more
than do the mechanical arts or the industrial arts, but rather
contribute with these to make the problems more acute.

Where, we ask, is our social psychology? And the answer

o16 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

is, that it is yet in the making, and that it is being made not by
psychologists, but by politicians, and by independent thinkers
like Bertrand Russell and Bernard Shaw. And if you ask my
opinion, I will tell you that I think it is being very imperfectly
made, as we should expect under the circumstances.

Weshould havea social psychology. Psychology should have
something to offer to the world on these problems which are by
admission of all so largely psychological. And there is no
school of psychology to which we can turn hopefully except
that which I have been describing as scientific. The older psy-
chology has acknowledged its impotence. What it offers as
social psychology is merely the pleasant diversion of under-
standing social events after they have happened. But this is
not to be charged against that psychology as a crime. Rather,
the traditional psychology is to be given the major credit of
having led up to the point at which it seems possible that we
may, if we carry out the trust it has confided to us, offer a real
social psychology.

On this point, as on the others, the more radical psychology,
which abandons the parent stem, is found wanting. That which
is needed is a social psychology: not physiology. We need to
deal with the desires, with the purposes, the emotions, and the
conscious tendencies of men and women, and we need to deal
with them as they are; not after abstracting from them that
which is their important and essential characteristic.

The scientific psychology—empirical: omitting nothing from
the facts: assuming nothing as empirical fact—logical: arriv-
ing at no conclusions by juggling with terms—proceeding ex-
perimentally with working hypotheses—alone offers any chance
of finding the help which society needs. And in scientific psy-
chology, treating men as they are, as active conscious beings,
without building up around itself a wall of psychic objects,
there is real hope. Of this I am firmly convinced, although I
can not demonstrate the certainty.

There is, then, great need for scientific psychology, and un-
less the scientific study of psychology is promoted, in labo-
ratories, and in the field: and unless the teaching of scentific
psychology is fostered in the class room, and in print, culture
will be impaired, and social progress impeded.

In emphasizing the need of scientific psychology, I repeat, I
do not wish to be understood as ignoring the claims of the past
to recognition and appreciation. On the contrary: the possi-
bility of a scientific psychology to-day is founded on the work of
Aristotle and his successors through the centuries. But I wish

THE SOCIAL NEED FOR SCIENTIFIC PSYCHOLOGY 517

to repeat, that we are false to our predecessors, if, after hav-
ing received the brand from their hands, we stand still and do
not go forward with swift feet.

Again I must insist, that I do not minimize the importance
of progress in those psychological arts in which we are so much
concerned. But I do insist that there are values for which
mental measurements and the other arts do not assume the
responsibility, and that the progress and the social worth of
these psychological arts themselves are dependent on these
other values.

Finally, I must explain, that, however narrowly I may have
defined scientific psychology, I stand upon no narrow definition
and no rigid test. I believe that in spite of differences of for-
mulation, differences of minor principle, and even differences
of purpose, the great body of American psychologists are in
spirit united in what I have imperfectly outlined as scientific
psychology, and that we shall overcome the dangers to which I
have pointed, and will go forward not only to continued scien-
tific achievement, but also to that essential social service which
psychology alone can render.

518 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

JOSEPH LISTER, HIS LIFE AND WORK’

By Dr. PAUL F. CLARK
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN

OSEPH LISTER was born on April 5, 1827, the son of
Joseph Jackson Lister and Isabella Harris. His father
was a London wine merchant of good old Quaker stock and a
man of unusual ability. He devoted his leisure hours to the
study of optics and was to a degree the founder of modern
microscopy in that he was the discoverer of important equa-
tions which led to the production of the achromatic lens. Joseph
Jackson Lister was largely self-taught and in the midst of an
active business life he found opportunity to make his mathe-
matical calculations, to grind lenses himself, and to earn a repu-
tation which gained for him fellowship in the Royal Society in
1832. He was also a good Latin scholar, a skilful artist, and
well versed in French and German.

Joseph’s mother was a cultivated and beautiful woman of
strong character who apparently, however, had less influence
on the development of the future surgeon than had his father.

Shortly after his marriage, the elder Lister bought a com-
modious attractive house with fields and gardens at Upton in
Essex. At that time, Upton was only a winding lane with a
scattering of comfortable houses instead of a sordid part of
busy London as it is now. Forest, marsh and the delightful
banks of the Thames made a peaceful rural setting for the boy-
hood of Lord Lister. Upton was a community of the Friends
and there young Lister grew up with his three brothers and
two sisters among the rigorous restrictions and in the peaceful
isolation of such a group.

BOYHOOD AND EDUCATION UNTIL 1852

Joseph Lister went to two private schools; the first at
Hitchen and the second at Grove House, Tottenham. He was
rather a precocious, serious lad, especially well versed in the
classics because of his training at home with his father. The
children used to read Latin classics to the elder Lister while
he was dressing. On the whole, however, his amusements were
those of an ordinary schoolboy. More than thirty of his early

1 Paper read before Wisconsin Historical Seminary May 26, 1920.

JOSEPH LISTER 519

school papers are still preserved. It is interesting to note that
four of these dealt with the human skeleton and one on the
similarity of structure between a monkey and a man. At an
early age he became interested in natural history, dissecting
many small animals and articulating skeletons. While still
young he decided to be a surgeon and never deviated from his
chosen path.

Lister’s religious affiliations debarred him from entrance
into the older universities, so after completing his preparatory
course at the age of seventeen, he was sent to University Col-
lege, London, which was distinctly non-sectarian. He spent
three years there working for his A.B. in rather gloomy sur-
roundings.

He began his early medical studies in earnest in the winter
of 1848, devoting more of his time than does the average med-
ical student to the fundamental sciences, including physics.
Lister’s introduction to surgery came shortly after the dis-
covery of anesthetics, and although this discovery represents a
striking landmark in the history of surgery, the change pro-
duced came only gradually. Operations were still performed
at high speed and the technique used was the same as found
in the pre-anesthetic days.

At University College Hospital one theatre of modest dimensions con-

taining one small instrument cupboard, a sturdy wooden table, a single
gas jet and a solitary washing basin served for every purpose including
the novel one of administering the anesthetic.
In following the cases Lister observed that it seemed to be a
lottery whether patients recovered or died. Inflammations,
suppurations, erysipelas and hospital gangrene were the too
common sequellze of operations. In such surroundings, then,
Lister obtained his first impressions of the profession which
he had chosen for his life work. His cousin, Thomas Hodg-
kin, described him as “‘kind and considerate but rather dwell-
ing apart and not making any strong friendships with his fel-
low students.” But an older member of the group of Friends
with whom they both lived spoke of him as one “‘who in the
total excels any one I know, or have known, in bright promise
for the future.”

When he became a resident in the hospital, he was asso-
ciated with men of other religious denominations and from
other schools and thus began to have a somewhat broader out-
look on life and to enjoy the pleasant club life of the hospital
interne. He entered with zeal into student politics and the
debating society, heading a sharp attack on the homeopaths.

520 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

He was granted the degree of M.B. of the University of Lon-
don and a Fellowship of the Royal Society of Surgeons in 1852
at the completion of nine years at the University College.

During the latter part of his course, he did some original
work stimulated by Wharton Jones and William Sharpey, pro-
fessor of ophthalmic medicine and surgery and professor of
physiology, respectively. His observations were published the
next year, 1853, in the Quarterly Journal of Microscopical Sci-
ence. The first of these papers confirmed and extended K6l-
liker’s observations demonstrating the existence of two distinct
muscles, the dilator and sphincter in the iris. The second paper
also confirmed the work of Kolliker on the structure of the in-
voluntary muscle fibers of the skin. These papers are beau-
tifully illustrated with his own camera lucida drawings. These
investigations were carried out before any of the modern
methods of sectioning and staining were known, but in spite
of this, the work is surprisingly well done.

Holidays were not neglected during his student days and
these he spent usually with members of his family in different
parts of England, Ireland and the Continent. He kept elab-
orate leather-bound diaries, most of which have been preserved.
The style in his diaries is rather stilted and the subject matter
not especially interesting. He shows, however, that he was a
keen observer of geology and architecture, manners and cus-
toms, and that he had acquired considerable facility with French
and German. Two sports that attracted him were swimming
in the summer time and skating in the winter, although as to
the latter he states that he never got beyond the making of
figure eights and threes of rather small dimensions.

EDINBURGH, 1853-1860

At the end of his medical course, Lister, having no definite
plan in mind, was advised by Sharpey, who had influenced him
markedly during his medical course, to visit Syme in Edin-
burgh for a month and then to make a more prolonged trip to
the various continental schools. So in September, 1853, Lister
went to Edinburgh, presented his introduction to Mr. Syme,
and was received most cordially. Syme invited him to his
home, gave him the opportunity of assisting with private opera-
tions, and set him to work in the hospital. Lister was sur-
prised to find that Edinburgh was ahead of London in many
ways. Syme was at this period fifty-four years of age, in the
prime of his work and was, perhaps, the first of British sur-
geons. He was a pioneer not only in the manner of teaching

JOSEPH LISTER 521

clinical surgery but in the wider field of general medical edu-
cation. There seems to have been a mutual attraction between
Syme and Lister and, persuaded by his admiration for Syme
and the unusual opportunities offered him, Lister determined
to remain in Edinburgh. A month later he was made super-
numerary house surgeon and soon afterwards resident house
surgeon. This gave him ample opportunity, as Syme seldom
interfered with the treatment of ordinary cases and accorded
Lister the exceptional privilege of using his own discretion as
to which of the cases admitted at night he should himself
operate upon. Lister became a frequent visitor at Milbank,
where Syme devoted his leisure to his garden and his orchids.
There he met famous men from all parts of the world, as Syme
was one of the most prominent in this important medical cen-
ter. In the autumn of 1854, Lister applied for the vacant as-
sistant “surgency ” at the Infirmary. Syme promised him his
support and also free access to his wards. Accordingly he
hired the lecture room and began preparing for the lectures in
earnest. Only four months remained before the opening of the
winter session and there were many duties and distractions.
One of the greatest distractions was Syme’s eldest daughter,
Agnes, and by the end of July he found he could do nothing
more in the preparation of his lectures until the matter was
settled. Fortunately it was settled favorably. One difficulty
arose, however, in that Miss Syme was not a member of the
Society of Friends and Quakers were not allowed at that time
to marry ‘Out of the Society.” Accordingly Lister resigned
and became a member of the Church of England. This change
never seems to have caused him any mental unrest.

The marriage took place at Milbank on April 23, 1856.
The young couple spent a month in the region of the English
lakes and at Upton and then started on a three months’ tour
on the Continent. In the course of this trip Lister made the
acquaintance of many surgeons, visited most of the leading
medical centers of Europe, and greatly improved his facility in
the use of the Italian and German languages. In Vienna he met
Rokitansky and saw his remarkable pathological museum.

Lister and his wife returned to Edinburgh in October, 1856,
and settled in their new home, 11 Rutledge Street. This was
not very attractive as to its surroundings, but was near the
business houses and well adapted for consultations. He was
elected to the assistant “surgency” in October, 1856. The
number of students attending his lectures this year was only
eight, but he was not at all discouraged. At this time he was

022 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

hard at work on his investigations on the early stages of in-
flammation and some experiments upon the coagulation of the
blood. He read a paper before the Royal Society of Edinburgh
on December 1, 1856, “On the Minute Structure of Involuntary
Muscular Fiber.” This again confirmed and extended some ob-
servations of Kolliker. During the early part of 1857 his
letters refer to the excitement of his first public operation at
the Infirmary and to the beginning of his private practice. He
was delighted with his work and in a letter to his mother his
attitude is shown by the statement that “fearing as I am some-
times apt to do that a mode of life so much in accordance with
my tastes as mine now is must be too pleasant to be proper for
me.” Ina letter to his father, February 26, 1857, he describes
his feelings at his first operation:

Yesterday I made my debut at the hospital in operating before the
students. I did two operations in the presence of a very full theatre and
several surgeons and old practitioners. I felt very nervous before begin-
ning, but when I got fairly to work this feeling went off entirely, and I
performed both operations with entire comfort. And I also explained the
operations and cases to the students without embarrassment. Altogether
I felt very thankful at the way I was able to acquit myself. Everybody
congratulated me afterwards and the students cheered me very warmly.

In June, 1857, he read an important paper on the early
stages of inflammation. He made the observations for the
most part on the frog’s web, although he also used the bat’s
wing in order to utilize a warm-blooded animal. He describes
very clearly the vascular changes in early inflammation, using
a great variety of irritants such as hot water, mustard, etc.
He apparently never detected the migration of white blood
corpuscles, which was due probably to the fact that each ex-
periment extended over a very short period of time. Cohnheim,
to whom the credit is usually given for the earliest observations
on the microscopic changes in inflammation, did not publish
until ten years later, 1867. As a matter of fact, credit really
belongs to neither of these men, but to William Addison (1848)
and Augustus Waller, who made careful observations in 1839,
although he did not publish until 1846.

In the summer of 1858 he started another course of lectures
dealing with surgical pathology and operative surgery. His
desire to give his students the fundamental facts of physiology
led him to work still further on the coagulation of the blood.
In his collected papers are five dealing with this subject.

During all this period Lister worked most industriously,
frequently far into the night, on his experiments. Mrs. Lister

JOSEPH LISTER 523

assisted him greatly, taking his dictation and aiding him with
the details of his work.

Lister’s private practise was growing, largely through the
influence of Syme, and he was enjoying the increased prestige
of his position. He was looked upon as a young surgeon of
great promise and a first rate investigator. In August, 1858,
the professorship of surgery in the University of Glasgow be-
came vacant and Lister was urged to apply for the position.
It was a regius professorship, and although there was consid-
erable difficulty and vexation due to politics, Lister’s appoint-
ment was finally made on January 28, 1860. The seven years
in Edinburgh were accordingly brought to an end with much
regret on the part of Lister, his students, and colleagues.

GLASGOW, 1860-1869

The appointment at Glasgow offered a wider opportunity
for his powers than could possibly have been the case at Edin-
burgh at that time. In Edinburgh he was somewhat over-
shadowed by the strong personality of Syme, whereas in Glas-
gow he was now thrown upon his own resources. For the first
year he was without any hospital appointment, but had plenty
of private practise and came into close association with many
congenial colleagues. His induction into office involved the
presentation of a Latin thesis which he sat up practically all
night to write and finished on the train from Edinburgh to
Glasgow. This was a common habit of his. There were always
many demands upon his time, and he never allowed himself
time enough to write his lectures or prepare for the extramural
functions that were a part of his duties. He was not given to
punctuality. The matter at hand was always of greater impor-
tance than the duty of the future.

The first lecture of the winter session at Glasgow was on
the importance of surgery.

He dwelt on the value of anatomy and physiology to the surgeon and
amongst other surgical matters, on the importance of making serviceable
stumps which he illustrated by a case of amputation of both legs in which
his patient was still able to dance the Highland Fling.

The number of students in his class finally reached 182, prob-
ably at that time the largest class in systematic surgery in
Great Britain. The students became very enthusiastic, made
him honorary president of their medical society, and backed
him in his claim to the “‘surgeoncy ” of the Infirmary with 161
signatures. He was finally appointed surgeon to the Royal In-

524 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

firmary on August 5, 1861. In all his teaching, whether in the
form of lectures, demonstrations, or the correction of student
papers, he was exceedingly conscientious. In correcting ex-
amination papers, every point in an answer to a question was
given its percentage value and the papers were graded with
painful precision.

In spite of daily lectures and the pressure of private prac-
tise, he published at this time an important paper on the ex-
cision of the wrist for tuberculosis, which extended his repu-
tation very considerably.

In September, 1864, Lister’s mother died. The parents had
been living alone at Upton for the previous six years and after
the death of his wife Joseph Jackson Lister passed the remain-
ing five years of his life in lonely isolation. His son, Joseph,
from this time on, wrote a weekly letter to his father, and it is
from these letters that we gain much information in regard to
the daily life, ideals, work and ambitions of Lister.

In order the better to understand his most important work,
namely, Lister’s discovery of the principles of antiseptic sur-
gery, it will be necessary to suggest briefly the conditions that
prevailed in hospitals. At that time there was no security that
the simplest operation would not end in a fatal septicemia. In
Glasgow and in fact in all the cities, wards were not infre-
quently closed for a time on account of the frightful mortality.
In Nuremberg the hospital authorities seriously considered the
pulling down of the Allgemeines Krankenhaus. Microbes were
looked upon as scientific curiosities, the hospital diseases, ery-
sipelas, pyemia, septicemia, hospital gangrene, and tetanus
were often called septic, but no one realized what that meant.
“Surgeons were fighting all of these diseases in the dark or
submitting to them as inevitable.”’ These were the days of
“laudable pus” and the common assumption was that putre-
faction and purulent infections were due to the oxygen of
the air.

Surgical cleanliness as understood at that time would as-
tonish a modern observer. In the institutions that had felt the
influence of Florence Nightingale, the nurses indeed were fairly
neat and esthetically clean.

But no such attempt to satisfy the proprieties was made by the
surgeon and his assistants. When a dresser or a house surgeon entered
upon his term of office, he hunted up an old coat in the lapel of which he
probably carried a wisp of ordinary whipcord for tying arteries. This
garment did duty for six months or a year and was then very properly

discarded. There were no such time limits, however, for the surgeons
themselves. Their operating coats lasted from year to year and event-

JOSEPH LISTER 525

ually acquired an incrustation of filth of which the owners appeared un-
conscious or even proud. This set the tone and some who were then
young can remember the scorn with which they were greeted when in
their reforming zeal they broke away from ancient custom, boldly took
off their coats and operated with upturned shirt sleeves.

No attempt was made to isolate septic cases; nurses and
dressers passed directly from erysipelas wards to healthy
patients. Lister complained that in Glasgow the closets com-
municated directly with the wards. The supply of water even
in the operating theaters was inadequate and one of the fre-
quent duties of the operating surgeon was the performing of
postmortem examinations. As in Vienna in the time of Sem-
melweis, the surgeon used frequently to come from the post-
mortem chamber directly to the operating room, with only
such cleanliness as common decency demanded. Surgeons were
not ashamed to speak of a “ good old surgical stink.”

The mortality statistics after amputation gives some indi-
cation as to the prevailing conditions. At the Edinburgh In-
firmary the death rate was 43 per cent.; at Glasgow Infirmary
39.1 per cent. At the Pennsylvania Hospital the record was
unusually good, the average mortality for a series of years
being 24.3, while at the Massachusetts General Hospital, the
average was 26 per cent. The mortality in the French Hos-
pitals was even greater than that in London, amounting to
about 60 per cent. Billroth at Zurich reported a mortality of
46 per cent. Sir James Simpson, the discoverer of chloroform
anesthesia, stated “that the man laid on the operating table
in one of our surgical hospitals is exposed to more chances of
death than the English soldier on the field of Waterloo.”

The cause of these conditions was unknown; doubt and un-
certainty existed in the minds of all. A polluted atmosphere
was the generally accepted cause, although opinions differed as
to how the air became tainted. The work of Semmelweis
(1861) had made no impression and it remained for Lister to
rediscover and extend the observations of this martyr to
science.

In handling open wounds at this time, two general lines of
treatment were followed. One was to encourage the formation
of a scab. After the edges of the wound had been approxi-
mated, no dressing was applied, but sometimes certain powders
or caustics or a piece of lint soaked in compound tincture of
benzoin. The other method was known as the open treatment.
The edges of the wound were allowed to remain quite open and
a piece of linen protected it somewhat from flies and dust.

526 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Some carried the first method to the point of what is called the
“occlusion method.” Collodion was used, completely exclud-
ing the polluting air. The occlusion method obviously did not
allow the drainage of pus, so Syme adopted what he called a
dry dressing. Lister pointed out, however, that this very soon
became a moist dressing due to the discharge from the wound.
Water dressings and bread and linseed meal poultices were in
common usage in some of the hospitals. Ligatures were of silk
or whipcord drawn over beeswax. Usually one end was cut
off short and the long ends of several ligatures gathered to-
gether for drainage. With the progress of the purulent in-
flammation which so commonly occurred, the ligatures were
sloughed off and secondary hemorrhage was common.

One more point deserves attention, namely, “subcutane-
ous’ surgery, by which was meant the performance of a minor
surgical operation through a puncture so small that little air
was admitted. The fact that these operations were so com-
monly free from putrefaction was held to be due to the fact
that air was not admitted to the wound.

It was under such conditions as these that Lister taught and
worked, his technique being no better than that of many others.
There was this difference, however: he did not believe these
conditions inevitable, and he was constantly searching by ob-
servation and experiment to find out the cause of the high mor-
tality in all hospitals.

Sepsis was known at the time, though the cause was un-
known and the word “ antiseptic” occurs in medical literature
as early as the middle of the eighteenth century. Many anti-
septic substances had been used from the time of the early
Egyptians and doubtless before that. At the time of which we
are writing, alcohol was freely used on the continent and it
was of course the basis of all tinctures. The good Samaritan
poured in “oil and wine.” Glycerine was used in England,
especially in cases of hospital gangrene. Chlorine and its
compound, chlorinated soda, and chlorinated lime were early
recognized as powerful antiseptics. Iodine was discovered in
1811, was used for a while, and then went out of fashion. In
1815 the antiseptic properties of coal-tar products were known
in France and carbolic acid was discovered by Runge in 1834.
As early as 1851, Calvert, an English chemist, used carbolic
acid for the preservation of cadavers. Jules Lemaire worked
extensively with carbolic acid and published in 1860 and again
in 1863. Carbolic acid in the treatment of wounds and sores
became the fashion in France for a while. All of these anti-

JOSEPH LISTER 527

septics were used, however, not with the hope of preventing the
. occurrence of putrefaction, but with the aim of neutralizing its
effects after it had developed. The two exceptions to this rule
were Semmelweis in Vienna and possibly Lemaire in Paris.

In 1865, while intensely occupied with the study of suppura-
tion, Lister learned from the work of Louis Pasteur that putre-
faction was a kind of fermentation caused by the growth of
microorganisms and that these microorganisms were present
in the dust of the air and responsible for wound infection.

The enormous significance of the work of Pasteur was im-
mediately apparent to Lister, who had for so many years been
struggling with this problem. Since the cause of suppuration
and septicemia was now known, it was obvious that the pre-
vention of such infections depended upon keeping the causative
organisms away from the wounds. His attitude can best be
understood by quoting from one of his papers published in 1867.

In the course of an extended investigation into the nature of inflam-
mation and the healthy morbid conditions of the blood in relation to it, I
arrived several years ago at the conclusion that the essential cause of
suppuration in wounds is decomposition, brought about by the influence
of the atmosphere upon blood or serum retained within them and in the
case of contused wounds upon portions of tissue destroyed by the violence
of the injury.

To prevent the occurrence of suppuration with all its attendant risks
was an object manifestly desirable; but till lately apparently unattain-
able, since it seemed hopeless to attempt to exclude the oxygen, which was
universally regarded as the agent by which putrefaction was effected.
But when it had been shown by the researches of Pasteur that the septic
property of the atmosphere depended not on the oxygen or any gaseous
constituent, but on minute organisms suspended in it, which owed their
energy to their vitality, it occurred to me that decomposition in the in-
jured part might be avoided without excluding the air by applying as a
dressing some material capable of destroying the life of the floating
particles.

Upon this principle I have based a practise of which I will now at-
tempt to give a short account.

His notion then was much more like that of aseptic surgery
than is generally conceded. He likened our skin to the glass of
Pasteur’s flasks. In a compound fracture the bottle is broken
and the air with the attendant bacteria gain access to the
tissues below. To be sure he paid more attention to air as a
source of infection, although he recognized that his hands and
open wounds were also infected.

In considering the possible methods of eliminating the air-
borne infections, he chose chemical antiseptics as his means
and happened to hit upon carbolic acid first. The first product

528 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

used was a crude acid known as German creosote, which he
tried on a compound fracture.
Quoting from one of his papers,

After cleansing the broken limb and squeezing out as far as possible
all parts of blood, a piece of calico or lint soaked in undiluted carbolic
acid and held by a pair of forceps, was introduced into the wound and
passed freely in all directions in order to destroy the germs that had
entered either at the time of the accident or afterwards and might be
lurking in deeper parts. A piece of lint similarly soaked in the acid was
then applied to the wound just large enough to overlap it in every direc-
tion by half an inch. This was covered by a slightly larger piece of thin
block tin or sheet lead, the object of which was to prevent the evaporation
of the antiseptic. The dressing was then fixed in position by strips of
adhesive plaster and some suitable absorbent material was packed around
between the limb and the splints for the purpose of soaking up any blood
or discharges that might escape. The blood and carbolic acid soon formed
a tenacious crust or thick paste which was not removed for several days
but its antiseptic properties were renewed from time to time by painting
some more of the undiluted carbolic acid on its outer surface after re-
moving the metallic plate for the purpose.

He found that the crude acid caused necrosis and sloughing, so
he next used a 5 per cent. watery solution of a purer product
which he succeeded in getting and a higher concentration in
linseed oil. This last was too irritating, so after repeated at-
tempts he used a putty made with calcium carbonate and a
solution of phenol in linseed oil, one part in four or one part in
six. This did not irritate the skin or tissues greatly.. He con-
stantly reiterated that the ideal dressing should be mild and
non-irritating and he continually advanced as his ideal the es-
tablishment of conditions in compound fractures and open
wounds similar to those that obtained where the skin is un-
broken. He did not obtain another suitable case for the appli-
cation of his principle until the spring of 1866. This also was
a compound fracture and he wrote his father on May 27:

It is now eight days since the accident and the patient has been going
on exactly as if there were no external wound, that is as if the fracture
were a simple one. His appetite, sleep, etc., good, and the limb daily
diminishing in size while there is no appearance whatever of any matter
forming. Thus a most dangerous accident seems to have been entirely
deprived of its dangerous element.

He published his epoch-making observations in several sections
in the Lancet between March and July, 1867. Only one out of
eleven cases died (although one had lost his leg), an almost un-
heard of success, especially under the abominable conditions
that prevailed in the wards of the Glasgow Royal Infirmary.
From this time he continually strove to improve his tech-

JOSEPH LISTER 529

nique, trying many different antiseptics and working with in-
tense zeal on each case that came to his wards.

Lister claimed to have discovered a new principle necessi-
tating fundamental changes in the conception of the causation
of infected wounds and therefore in the treatment of these
wounds. This claim was received with incredulity on the part
of some, open resistance on the part of others, and apathy on
the part of most persons. Unfortunately the nature of his dis-
covery was from the first confused with the discovery of car-
bolic acid, and when it was made clear that carbolic acid had
been used for years many considered Lister’s claims palpably
false. Sir James Y. Simpson led the attack on Lister in Scot-
land, and an anonymous letter in the Edinburgh Daily Review
made it appear that all Lister had done was to reproduce in
Great Britain what had long been the continental practise.
The controversy waged rather bitterly at times and Lister suf-
fered keenly from mortification. Attention had been directed
to the use of carbolic acid and not the fundamental underlying
principle, and in spite of all Lister could do, the phrases “ car-
bolic treatment” and the “‘ putty method” were on every one’s
lips. Simpson gave all credit to Lemaire and because of his
extended reputation, this point of view became widely dissem-
inated. Lister’s chagrin can well be imagined, but in this short
_paper we can hardly afford the time to quote from his published
letters on this subject. Very wisely he did not allow himself
to be drawn deeply into the controversy, but continued his
efforts toward the improvement of his technique, and in open
lecture and published paper continually reiterated that his dis-
covery was a fundamental principle and not a new method of
dressing.

His successful treatment of cases continued. Visitors from
other countries as well as from near by came to his wards for
purposes of observation. Those who came and actually saw
seem to have been well satisfied, and year by year his teaching
was spread by his own students as they passed out to new
fields of endeavor. He no longer used strong carbolic acid, but
found a 5 per cent. solution adequate. Even at this time he
was trying to dispense with antiseptics. He states:

Of all those who use antiseptics in surgery, I expect that I apply
them least to the surface of the wound.

At this time also he was attempting to find a suitable “ pro-
tective,” a non-stimulating substance impervious to carbolic
acid; varnished oiled silk was his final word in this direction.

Secondary hemorrhage was a continual source of danger in

VoL x1.— 34.

530 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

the septic wounds of that day and Lister was the first to recog-
nize why the ligatures sloughed away from such a wound. He
did much experimental work in attempting to find a ligature
which should be strong enough and yet capable of being di-
gested finally by the fluids of the body. Silk ligatures soaked
in strong carbolic for two hours, catgut ligatures soaked in a
great variety of disinfecting solutions, were used one after
another. His final process in 1908 was the use of chromium
sulphate and corrosive sublimate as a means of disinfecting
well-seasoned catgut. This and several other methods of treat-
ing catgut devised by Lister are still in use to-day.

In the spring of 1869 Syme had a paralytic stroke and in
the summer he resigned his chair, urging Lister to become a
candidate for it. A large number of the Edinburgh students
sent a delightful letter to Lister urging his candidacy and on
August 18 he received news of his election to the Edinburgh
professorship. A month after this appointment Lister’s father,
almost eighty-four years old, was taken ill and shortly after-
wards died. For Lister, this meant a deep personal loss and
led to the breaking up of the old home at Upton.

EDINBURGH, 1869-1877

The Listers moved to Edinburgh in October, 1869. He
settled at No. 9 Charlotte Square in one of the most fashionable
parts of the city and had to pay what he called ‘‘a most enor-
mous sum” for it. His private practise developed very rapidly,
his lectures were largely attended by an enthusiastic group of
students and he was delighted to find his expectations realized
in that his life was not as tied up with routine as at Glasgow.
His university duties were considerably less, inasmuch as he
gave only two clinical lectures a week, instead of the daily lec-
ture in systematic surgery. He also enjoyed the fact that his
hospital visit occurred at noon in Edinburgh instead of the
early morning as at Glasgow.

He found many changes in Edinburgh from the conditions
that had prevailed ten years before. Syme and Simpson, the
two strongest personalities, were both nearing the close of their
active lives. Syme indeed died in June after Lister’s return to
Edinburgh. He mourned the loss of Syme very deeply. The
relation between the two had been almost that of father and
son. Lister had always trusted much in Syme’s advice and in
his judgment, but with the death of Syme, Lister stepped into
the first place among the surgeons of Scotland.

JOSEPH LISTER 531

Lister began again to devote more of his time to investiga-
tions and bedtime was frequently postponed until four or five
o’clock in the morning, while he made careful notes or delicate
camera lucida drawings. His hospital visits occurring at noon
caused the noon-day meal to be decidedly a movable feast. Each
antiseptic case received his personal attention, and the assist-
ants frequently became very hungry while their “chief” at-
tended to details which seemed to them very minute. The
classes were large, sometimes numbering 170 to 180, and the
lectures, judging from the reports of his students, were in-
tensely interesting. He no longer spent hours in preparation
for his lectures, but perhaps half an hour sitting quietly in his
armchair, thinking.

His laboratory work for the next few years was largely
bacteriological in character. Four or five hundred closely
written foolscap pages with many careful drawings in what he
called his ‘‘common-place” book give evidence as to the large
amount of time spent in bacteriological work. Altogether he
published six papers dealing with bacteriological subjects, no
one of which gives evidence of observations of lasting impor-
tance. They did, however, bring him into touch with Louis
Pasteur and the correspondence between the two is delight-
fully interesting.

Two modifications of his surgical technique were intro-
duced during the early years of his second Edinburgh period.
The first was the carbolic acid spray, about which so much has
been said in open ridicule and the second the use of absorbent
gauze dressings. Pasteur’s teachings, it must be admitted,
strongly favored the air-borne theory, and there was at that
time no clear-cut distinction between pathogenic and sapro-
phytic organisms. In the use of the carbolic spray, Lister al-
lowed his theorizing to lead him away from his experimental
basis. In this period of his work it seems to me that he rather
neglected his earlier fundamental conceptions, becoming in-
fatuated with carbolic acid as a panacea. So in the minds of
many the term “carbolic acid treatment” was superseded by
the “spray and gauze treatment.” Lister’s notion was that the
spray would mechanically cleanse the air and destroy the bac-
teria present. The machine for the production of the spray
passed through a regular evolution from a small hand atomizer,
to a foot spray worked with a bellows, to a cumbersome tripod
machine worked with a long handle which bore the name of
“the donkey engine” among the scoffers and finally to a beau-
tifully designed machine producing a steam spray. The spray

532 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

was used in many parts of the world for years, although doubts
arose in the minds of many and finally Bruns of Tubingen
(1880) condemned it in a forceful paper entitled ‘ Fort mit
dem Spray.” Lister finally abandoned the spray in 1887,
acknowledged that its use had been based on a misconception
of the facts, that pathogenic organisms were not very plentiful
in the air, that it was extremely irritating to the hands of the
operators, and that the air was not, after all, the principal
source of wound infection. At the International Medical Con-
gress at Berlin in 1890, he states:

As regards the spray, I feel ashamed that I should ever have recom-
mended it for the purpose of destroying microbes in the air.

The substitution of the gauze dressing for the plaster was a
distinct improvement in Lister’s mind, because it made the
antiseptic treatment easier to carry out. Many different anti-
septics were used to saturate the gauze and a great deal of ex-
perimentation was carried out to test each one. Oakum dress-
ings, carbolic gauze, gauze soaked in corrosive sublimate, the
double cyanide of zinc and mercury, all the different common
salts of mercury, many volatile disinfectants, sero-sublimate
gauze, and boric acid all passed through various stages of trial
in his laboratory and wards. Several papers in this field were
published in the British Medical Journal and the Lancet in the
years from 1884 to the end of his active life as a surgeon.

The story of the gradual spread of Lister’s teachings need
hardly be recorded save in the briefest form. The controversy
was waged and there were those who scoffed, but for the most
part the junior physicians and surgeons everywhere were be-
ginning to swing towards Lister’s point of view. Among those
on the continent who became his adherents must be mentioned
Ernst von Bergmann, who became convinced that the antiseptic
method was only a stage in the development of surgical tech-
nique and that the aseptic method must be the treatment of the
future. He became the apostle of aseptic surgery and was in-
strumental in the general hospital improvement that dated
from this period. Lister’s teachings were accepted more rap-
idly in Germany, Switzerland and Scandinavia, than in Eng-
land. Of the foreign countries France was especially slow to
take up the modern methods.

During these years at Edinburgh his published papers were
numerous. No less than ten connected with antiseptics and
two on fermentation appeared between 1870 and 1876. During
the Franco-Prussian War his hope that antiseptic methods

JOSEPH LISTER 533

would lead to more adequate control of infected wounds was
only partly realized.

In 1875 he made an extended continental tour with his wife
and other members of his family. The first part of the trip,
spent for the most part in Italy, was largely for pleasure,
whereas the latter part, through the university towns of Ger-
many, was a triumphal procession. He was dined and wined
by physicians and students who welcomed him as the fore-
runner of modern surgery.

They returned to Edinburgh toward the end of June and
immediately afterwards he took the first of many trips in oppo-
sition to the work of the anti-vivisectionists. This group of
misguided sentimentalists became extremely active in England
and, in spite of the opposition of Lister and other leaders in
medicine and the biological sciences, put through a “cruelty to
animals act” in Parliament which has hampered the efforts of
experimenters in that country even to this day. Lister’s letter
to the Queen opposing the “cruelty to animals act” is a model
of courteous but strong opposition to the restriction of well-
handled animal experimentation. The law as passed forbids
any experimentation save in a registered house by licensed in-
vestigators.

It forbids the granting of a special license to a distinguished doctor
to experiment on a chloroformed frog in his own study in pursuit of
science, while it allows any one who can afford it to hunt a stag to death
or set two greyhounds to chase a hare and wager money on the result.

In September, 1876, Lister, together with Mrs. Lister and
his brother, attended the International Medical Congress at
Philadelphia. Lister was made president of the Surgical Sec-
tion, taking a prominent part in many of the debates. He trav-
eled extensively both before and after the congress, visiting
Montreal, Toronto, Niagara, going as far west as San Francisco.

In 1877 a chair of clinical surgery was created for Lister at
King’s College, London, and in spite of the vehement opposition
of his students, Lister accepted it.

It is perhaps difficult to understand why Lister should have
wanted to leave his preeminent position in Edinburgh, with his
well-trained assistants in a hospital dominated by him, where
he had large classes of enthusiastic and affectionate students
and friends of long standing. But he left these desirable con-
ditions to accept the position at King’s College with a com-
paratively small London hospital, where the average class was
less than 25 and where apathy or distinct opposition must be
met daily. His primary reason for making the change was that

534 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

London was the only city of any prominence that had not
adopted his procedures. He felt that he must carry the gospel
to the Romans. He was a man with a mission.

LONDON, 1877-1893

In London the Listers lived at No. 12 Park Crescent, well
away from the fashionable quarter and also remote from the
recognized consultant’s quarter, but near the Park Square Gar-
dens and also the Botanical Gardens, and that was what Lister
desired. He did not build-up a large private practise in Lon-
don. This was partly due to his lack of punctuality, and partly
to his preference learned from Syme of leaving the amount of
his fee to the patient’s decision. This always placed the con-
sulting physician in rather an embarrassing situation. He also
did not wish to leave the after care of his patients to the physi-
cian consulting him, who usually had no notion as to Lister’s
methods. But he had just about the amount of practise he de-
sired; patients were sent to him from all parts of the British
Isles. He enjoyed immensely the personal relation established
in private practise, taking the keenest interest in the affairs of
his patients, and they in turn regarded him with veneration.
He would have vigorously opposed our full-time clinical pro-
fessorships just as at that day he opposed the notion that the
professor of pathology should not have beds in the hospital.

He brought with him from Edinburgh four men to form the
basis of his staff in King’s Hospital. Without the assistance of
these well-trained men he would have found it extremely dif-
ficult to do anything in the uncongenial atmosphere of King’s
College Hospital. With the nursing department, there was con-
tinued friction. ‘The Sisterhoods were bound by their own
notions and inflexible rules. His assistants, Watson Cheyne
and John Stewart, tell of several amusing and almost tragic in-
stances of the absurd obstinancy of the Sisters in charge.

One feature of Lister’s methods of treatment is worthy of
note in that it brings out Lister’s great personal interest in his
cases as well as the difficulties with the nursing organization.
Chronic cases of tuberculosis of the bone, psoas abscesses, etc.,
which formerly were almost always fatal, became curable, but
only with prolonged and careful treatment, so that some cases
remained in the hospital for a long period of time. In October,
1877, the managers of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary decided
to discharge some of these chronic cases which Lister had left
behind. One woman, Lizzie Thomas, came to London, as Lister

JOSEPH LISTER 535

wished her admitted to King’s College Hospital. She was
brought by the Scotch head nurse in a basket such as were used
to move patients in the Edinburgh hospitals. In spite of the
fact that it was a cold bleak October morning, the basket and its
contents were placed on the floor, while the Sisters insisted that
the patient could not be admitted till the secretary arrived two
hours later to draw up the regular papers for admittance. Not
till Lister’s assistant, John Stewart, threatened to put Lizzie to
bed himself, with the assistance of the Crimean veteran porter,
did the shocked Sisters reluctantly consent to take charge of the
patient before all the usual formalities had been observed. In
spite of her ungracious reception the patient recovered, as did
the other six chronic cases whom Lister sent, at his own ex-
pense, to a nursing home, after they had been summarily dis-
.charged by the Edinburgh Infirmary.

He attempted to introduce the ward methods of teaching
surgery that he had used in Edinburgh, but there were very
few cases and the students were apathetic. Lister’s classes re-
mained small. Coaching classes were the order of the day and
the London examination system which Lister vehemently op-
posed gave no power to the professor in charge of the course.
Students found that Lister’s views were not acceptable to the
examiners, so they avoided his clinics, and instead of the 400
eager students as at Edinburgh, his lectures were attended by a
bare dozen.

Gradually, however, the successful cases made an impres-
sion even in London and his lectures began to attract a few gen-
eral practitioners and a goodly attendance of foreigners.

During his London period, Lister gave many addresses and
attended numerous medical congresses. He was a juror at the
University Exhibition at Paris in 1878 and seized the oppor-
tunity to become more familiar with Pasteur and his work. At
the sixth International Medical Congress in Amsterdam, a
great reception was tendered him, the ovation at his entrance
lasting for some minutes. The seventh International Medical
Congress met in London in 1881 and was a memorable occasion.
Virchow, Volkmann, Pasteur, Billings and Huxley gave gen-
eral addresses. The most remarkable paper at the meeting was
given by Pasteur on ‘“ Vaccination in Relation to Chicken
Cholera and Splenic Fever.”

For fifteen years Lister occupied the chair of clinical sur-
gery at King’s College. His private duties were numerous and
his public life became more and more complex. He received
honorary degrees and various orders of merit from different

536 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ruling monarchs. In 1883 he was made Baronet. His life in
London, however, was less strenuous than that in Edinburgh.
Experimentation went on as before and the “Commonplace
book” is full of experiments on catgut, gauze, and various
germicides. London was finally won over by the pertinacity of
Lister and the gradual piling up of facts. Even the Lancet
published laudatory remarks. He played more and more a
leading part in public affairs and in medical education. He al-
ways opposed the admission of women to medical schools.

All this time, Pasteur had continued his remarkable studies
on the production of active immunity by the introduction of
attenuated organisms until one after another the diseases of
chicken cholera, anthrax and finally rabies were rendered, if
not harmless, at least less dangerous to man and other animals.
In order to aid the work in the preventive treatment of rabies
the Institut Pasteur was founded and for a number of years it
was necessary to send all persons in Great Britain who needed
treatment for this disease to Paris. Feeling that this condition
should be rectified, Lister and others of the medical profession
attempted to establish a similar institute in Great Britain. In
spite of much opposition on the part of the anti-vivisection-
ists the British Institute for Preventive Medicine was estab-
lished on June 5, 1891. This Institute, finally renamed after
Lister, has gone through many vicissitudes but is still fulfilling
the purpose of its founders.

As Lister’s duties became less burdensome owing to advanc-
ing years, his vacations became more numerous and longer, al-
though he never neglected this part of a normal life. He trav-
eled widely, frequently making some medical congress the
excuse for the trip. He visited Norway after the Amsterdam
congress in 1880, visited Spain repeatedly, had an interesting
trip through the Dolomites in 1881 and attended the Interna-
tional Medical Congress in Berlin in 1890. During all his vaca-
tions he spent much of his time in the open; he was devoted to
fishing and was always interested in field botany. Many of his
botanical trips were made with his brother Arthur, who later
became an authority on the Myxomycetes. During the latter
half of his life, Lister became an ardent follower of Audubon,
and could frequently be seen, when on his vacations, with a vas-
culum over one shoulder and a bird glass over the other.

One of the most dramatic occasions of this period of his life
was the Pasteur Jubilee celebrated at the Sorbonne on Decem-
ber 27, 1892. After the opening speeches by the president of
the republic and the dean of the section, Lister was called upon

JOSEPH LISTER 537

as the representative of the Royal Society of London and the
Royal Society of Edinburgh. His address is a delightfully en-
thusiastic appreciation of the work of the great Frenchman.
At the close of the speech,

Monsieur Pasteur se léve pour embrasser M. Lister. L’étreinte de ces
deux hommes était comme la representation vivante de la fraternité de la
science dans le soulagement de l’humanite.

During the usual spring holiday in the next year, 1893, Lord
and Lady Lister (for he had now been made a peer of the
realm) went to the Italian Riviera. After about a week of
botanizing, Lady Lister suddenly developed an acute pneumonia
which resulted fatally.

Lister was now a solitary man. They had had no children
and he and his wife had been intimate sharers of their mutual
joys and sorrows for thirty-seven years. She had always en-
tered keenly into his scientific work and the numerous “ com-
monplace books” in which are recorded his many experimental
observations are largely in her handwriting.

The year before his wife’s death Lister had been retired at
the age of sixty-five from the professorship at King’s College,
but his duties at the hospital continued through 1893. At the
end of that session he ceased his work in the wards and also
terminated most of his private practise. He was still mentally
and physically vigorous but the death of his wife and the cessa-
tion of his regular duties depressed him very greatly.

DECLINING YEARS, 1893-1912

With the death of his wife social gatherings at Park Cres-
cent came largely to an end and he seemed to have no zest even
for his experimental work. To give him some regular occupa-
tion his friends obtained for him the foreign secretaryship of
the Royal Society in November, 1893. He held this position
until 1895, when he was elected president. His life for the next
four or five years consisted of his duties in this society, offi-
ciating at many public ceremonies, and serving in the upper
house of Parliament. A number of interesting general ad-
dresses date from this period of his life.

In the autumn of 1897 Lister again visited America on the
occasion of the annual meetings of the British Association for
the Advancement of Science at Toronto and the British Medical
Association at Montreal. Following the public ceremonies,
Lister and his companions made a tour of the west, taking in
Vancouver, Seattle and Yellowstone Park.

or
Oo
7/8)

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

At the second Tuberculosis Congress in 1901, Lister pre-
sided on the occasion of Koch’s paper relative to the non-infec-
tiousness of the bovine tubercle bacillus for human beings.
Lister’s impromptu criticism of this paper showed a remark-
able grasp of the subject and gave proof of the fact that his
mind was still keen in analysis in that he pointed out several of
the weak points in Koch’s argument.

On the occasion of his eightieth birthday, his professional
friends determined to gather all of his more important papers
and addresses into a memorial volume. He was very much in-
terested in this publication and took an active part in aiding the
committee who had it in charge. The collected papers were
finally published in June, 1919, in two quarto volumes with
many reproductions of Lister’s original drawings.

The last seven or eight years of Lister’s life were tedious
and certainly years of “labor and sorrow.” In the latter part
of 1909 his sight and hearing became much impaired and al-
though he continued to dictate letters, he could neither read nor
write. His sister-in-law, Miss Syme, was with him continually
during the latter years of his life and ministered to his comfort.
Pandora’s gift was also still with him and to the very last he
hoped to be able to finish an unpublished research on the nature
and cause of suppuration. He died February 12, 1912. By his
own wish he was not buried in Westminster Abbey, but at the
West Hampstead Cemetery beside his wife.

It is not difficult at this period to evaluate the work of
Joseph Lister. With all due credit to Semmelweiss and Le-
maire, it was the driving force of Lister and his work that
played a large part in the overthrow of the reign of “laudable
pus” and the crowning of the far-reaching experiments of Pas-
teur with the effective methods of modern surgery. Aside
from this, his greatest work, he will be remembered for his
painstaking observations on the contractile tissues of the iris,
and his overthrow of the then current theory that coagulation
of the blood was due to the liberation of ammonia, showing in-
stead that in the blood vessels at least it depended upon injury
to the tissues. His paper on excision of the wrist for caries is a
classic, and the introduction of the catgut suture in surgery of
the vascular system, and absorbent gauze bandages in all open
wounds were definite advance steps.

Lister in all his work was diligent and painstaking, not spec-
tacular or brilliant. As an operator he was usually slow, punc-
tilious in the arrest of hemorrhage and in the stitching of
wounds. His hands were steady and skilful. He planned each

JOSEPH LISTER 539

operation before beginning it, laying out his instruments as he
mentally rehearsed the operation step by step. His voice was
musical and in public he spoke deliberately and clearly. He
had a slight stammer which was scarcely noticeable when he
felt fresh and vigorous. From the first he was much respected
by his students and as years passed this developed into an en-
thusiastic devotion. John Stewart writes in 1910, ‘ The diffi-
culty will be for any man to find language to express what our
Master was to us. We knew we were in contact with a genius,
we felt we were helping in the making of history and that all
things were becoming new.” Lister was almost worshiped by
his patients. He was so extremely sympathetic, so gracious in
his manner, and so attentive to all their wants. His thoughtful
face showed obvious mastery of himself and of his situation.

The general feeling towards Lister both now and during the
later years of his life is well expressed by a happy phrase of
Sir Michael Foster’s at the end of a speech delivered at Toronto,

In early life Lister belonged to a Society the members of which called

all men Friends, and now in turn because of his inestimable beneficence
and service to mankind, all men the world over call him Friend.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Addison. Experimental and Fractical Researches on Inflammation. Lon-
don, Churchill, 1848.

Cohnheim. Ueber Entziindung und EHiterung. Virchow’s Archiv, 1867,
XL., 20.

Godlee, R. J. Lord Lister. Macmillan, 1918.

The Collected Papers of Joseph Baron Lister, Clarendon Press, 1909.

Saleeby, C. W. Surgery and Society. Moffat, Yard & Co., 1912.

Waller. Microscopic Examination of some of the Principal Tissues of
the Animal Frame as observed in the Tongue of the Living Frog.
Philos. Magazine, 1846, XXXIX., 271.

Waller. Microscopic Observations on the Perforation of the Capillaries
by the Corpuscles of the Blood, and on the Origin of the Pus Cor-
puscles. Phil. Magazine, 1846, XXIX., 397.

Wrench, G. T. Lord Lister, His Life and Work. T. Fisher Unwin, 1913.

540 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

FOOD TASTES AND FOOD PREJUDICES OF
MEN AND DOGS

By VILHJALMUR STEFANSSON
NEW YORK CITY

URING eleven years spent within the Arctic circle, I have
made various observations on the food prejudices of dogs
which appear to me to be of interest not only in themselves but
also in the light they throw on the food prejudices (or tastes) of
human beings.

When we were on our way down the Mackenzie River on
our second expedition, we purchased some dogs. From my
knowledge of the country, I take it for certain that the diet of
these dogs during their bringing up had been as follows: fresh,
putrid, and wind or smoke-dried fish, with caribou, moose and
possibly mountain sheep meat in the same three states of preser-
vation. There would also be a certain amount of rabbits, ptar-
migans and possibly some fresh-water ducks. We can be quite
certain that eider ducks and seals were both absent from their
dietary. When we got this team down to the Arctic coast we
found that all of them at first refused to eat seal meat if the
seal meat was fresh, but would eat it readily if it was semi-
putrid. The refusal to eat fresh meat was so steadfast that
some of the dogs starved themselves for at least a week before
tasting any of it.

The following spring we had some of the dogs from this
team at the mouth of the Colville River in Alaska, and it hap-
pened that the only food we could conveniently secure for them
was eider ducks. They all at first refused to eat the eider ducks
and again some of them went through a starvation period of
more than a week before even nibbling at the meat. But they
were all willing to eat eider ducks as soon as they became
putrid.

In the spring of 1912 I found myself on the north coast of
Alaska east of Point Barrow, with a team of dogs some of
which had been purchased from the Eskimos of Coronation
Gulf. These dogs had been brought up on a diet of seal and
caribou meat with possibly a little fish in summer. It is reason-
ably certain that they had never had opportunity to taste water-
fowl of any kind. On the Alaska coast we were now unable for
a period to secure anything except geese, chiefly American
white-fronted and white wavies. For several days all of the

FOOD TASTES AND FOOD PREJUDICES 541

dogs in the team refused to eat and one dog persisted for more
than a week before eating at all, although he had to work part
of the time. These geese were fresh.

In 1910 we had a female dog brought up on the Booth
Islands, near Cape Parry. She had had for food nothing but
seal and polar bear meat during her first year of life. We then
moved inland to where the only available food was caribou. It
was more than a week before she would taste caribou meat.

In 1914 we had in northwest Banks Island a team of dogs
none of which presumably had ever eaten wolf meat. It is very
inconvenient to have in a team animals that will not eat any
food that happens to be available, so we make a practice of
breaking all our dogs of all their food prejudices when we can.
We now happened to kill a wolf and, although we had plenty of
other meat, we took the occasion to break our team to the eating
of wolf meat, thinking that some time we might find it con-
venient to be able to feed them wolf. We did not know exactly
the ages of our dogs, but could judge them roughly by the teeth.
One of the dogs was presumably two or three years older than
any other member of the team. There were six dogs altogether.
We offered them the meat for three or four days before any of
them ate any of it. Then they began to eat it, and they com-
menced to eat it in the order of their age, the youngest being the
first to give in. The oldest dog went for two weeks without
swallowing any of the wolf meat, although he occasionally took
a piece of it in his mouth and dropped it again. He had been
fat at the beginning of the experiment and had become skin-
poor when at the end of the two weeks we had to commence
travelling and were forced to feed him on caribou meat, for we
needed his strength in the work we were doing. We never had
the time to break this dog to the eating of wolf meat. It is pos-
sible that actual starvation would never have done this with the
fresh meat, but he could have been taught to eat it by feeding
him putrid wolf meat first and then later on pieces of wolf meat
that were fresher and fresher. We did induce him to swallow
some small pieces of wolf meat by dipping them in rancid seal
oil. Obviously he did not smell or taste anything but the seal
oil and took these pieces to be seal meat.

This is only a synopsis of our experiments with the food
tastes of dogs, from which I have drawn the following general-
ized conclusions:

Dogs brought up around ships and used to foraging in slop
pails and eating highly seasoned food will eat any food that we
have ever offered to them. It seems, therefore, that a dog used
to many sorts does not mind eating one sort more.

542 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Dogs brought up on a diet restricted to two or three articles
will, if they are more than a year old, always refuse at first
when an entirely new food is offered to them. They base this
refusal on the sense of smell and if the meat is putrid enough
so that the putrefaction smell completely hides the native smell
of the meat then the dog has no objection. In other words, all
rotten meats taste and smell substantially alike and are, there-
fore, recognized as a familiar diet, while any new kind of fresh
meat offends the dog through its strange smell.

It is commonly said by hunters and natives who have noticed
that dogs will not eat wolf or fox meat that dogs object to can-
nibalism. I find that the objection of a dog to wolf meat is no
stronger than his objection to duck meat or caribou meat, pro-
vided that the duck or caribou is an absolutely new meat in the
experience of the dog.

I have found that the food prejudice is stronger the older
the dog, and I incline to the belief, although we have not a suf-
ficiently large number of experiments to be certain, that with
dogs of a given age the prejudice of the female against new
food is stronger than that of the male. This seems to strengthen
the position of those who believe that women are more conserva-
tive than men by showing that conservatism as a sex character
is fundamental and extends down into the lower animals.

I have thought that it would be exceedingly interesting to
make further experiments in the food tastes of dogs along the
following lines:

Newborn pups of the same litter should be selected, one to
be fed for two years on mutton and water, another on fish and
water, a third on beef, and a fourth perhaps on a vegetarian
diet. It would make the experiment more interesting if a male
and a female could be used for each sort of diet. Judging from
our experiments, it seems probable that at the end of two years
the mutton-fed dog would refuse both beef and fish, and the
fish-fed dog would refuse both mutton and beef. I believe it
would also be found that the abhorrence for the new diet would
be stronger with the female in each pair than with the male.

It is well known that some Eskimo groups eat either no
vegetable food at all or else practically none. But in all parts
where we have been except in Coronation Gulf they are fond
of the berry known in Alaska as the “salmon berry ”’ (called in
Labrador: Baked apple). We were, therefore, astonished, espe-
cially my Alaska Eskimo companions, when we found that the
Coronation Gulf Eskimos live among an abundance of these
berries and have never thought of tasting them. On inquiry we
found there was no taboo against the berries and my Eskimo

FOOD TASTES AND FOOD PREJUDICES 543

companions tried to introduce the fashion. They found no diffi-
culty in getting children to try the berries, except that in some
cases the mothers were offended and considered it quite im-
proper for my companions to try to induce children to eat this
unheard-of food. The grown men were commonly willing to
taste the berries and I do not recall that even one man refused,
but I should say that fully half the women positively refused
even to taste the salmon berry during the summer we spent
with them. This is really a rather good fruit and I have no
doubt that by now most or all of the people are eating the salmon
berry, but our observation that first year indicated clearly the
greater conservatism of the women. We observed this con-
servatism in many other things—for instance, smoking. AI-
though all western Eskimo women use tobacco and although
there have been tobacco-using women on our ships when we
have come in contact with these eastern Eskimos, we have
always found the men far readier than the women to learn
smoking.

I looked into the matter of whether the reluctance of the
women to smoke, or to eat salmon berries was due to the idea '
that things proper for men might be improper for women. It
did not seem that any such consideration applied.

I have had a great deal to do with the food prejudices of
white men in connection with introducing them to a diet of meat
only. I have found that the laws of food prejudice as deduced
from dogs have applied to my white companions exactly. Other
things being equal, the older the man the more he has objected
to trying a new kind of food and to abandoning the foods he was
used to. We found with dogs that one brought up on a ship
and used to a great variety in diet would take readily to a new
diet. Similarly we have found that “well-brought up” men,
used in their homes to a large variety of foods, both domestic and
imported, take very readily to any new thing (such, for instance,
as seal meat). But men “poorly brought-up” and used only to
half a dozen or so articles of food in their regular diet, are
generally very reluctant to try a new food unless it has been
represented. to them in advance as an expensive or specially
delicious thing. Of course, the situation here is not so simple
as it is with dogs. For one thing, the man of the laboring type
has a feeling of being degraded when he is compelled to eat the
food of “savages,” while a man of the intellectual type is ap-
pealed to by the mild flavor of adventure in experimenting with
“native” food.

o44 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE SCIENTIFIC SELECTION OF MEN

By ARTHUR FRANK PAYNE

UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA

HE problem of selecting men for certain jobs and positions
i i always has been one of vital importance both to the men
and to the position. At the present time this problem is in-
creasing in importance and is becoming difficult and complex
because of differences of opinion in regard to the method and
technique of making a selection of certain men for certain jobs,
positions or types of work.

The new science of psychology has standardized certain
scales, measures and tests for measuring general intelligence.
The best known of these are the “‘ Binet-Simon Scale for Meas-
uring Intelligence.” This scale has been revised, the revision
being known as the “Stanford Revision of the Binet-Simon
Scale.”

The army psychologists during the recent war formulated
and standardized the well-known ‘“ Alpha and Beta” tests for
measuring the mental intelligence of large groups of men of
varying degrees of education. It was found during the war that
units made up of men of equal intelligence were much more
effective than when men of unequal intelligence were placed in
the same unit. It was also found in certain types of work and
units such as artillery, signal corps, engineering corps, medical
corps, etc., that a certain standard of intelligence was necessary
before any individual could hope to be effective in that par-
ticular type of work. Our fighting army was rendered much
more effective by this type of testing, selection and placement.
There is no good reason why our working army in times of
peace could not be made much more effective by the same
methods.

Psychologists are now working upon scales and measures
for testing the aptitudes of individuals for certain types of
work. They know that people who possess certain special abili-
ties are more successful on certain types of work than those
that do not possess these certain abilities. They also know that
people who possess certain disabilities can never hope to be
successful on some particular types of work. This field isknown
as the “Psychology of Special Abilities and Disabilities.”

The army psychologists also worked out tests for the meas-
uring of trade knowledge and trade skill. These were very

SCIENTIFIC SELECTION OF MEN 545

effectively used during the war in choosing the men for the large
proportion of technical positions now required in a modern
army.

All of the above tests, scales and measures are based upon
accurate scientific data. The tests have been furnished and
standardized by using the same scientific methods that are used
in any other branch of scientific research. There is no question
about the validity of these tests and without doubt great ad-
vances will be made along these lines in the next few years.

The demand among industrial leaders for tests of these
types to help solve the labor problem of industry has been so
great during the last five years, that it has brought about a
revival of the old abandoned so-called science of phrenology,
physiognomy, character reading and character analysis. This
revived pseudo-science has many followers among industrial
executives, and the purpose of this article is to discover the
validity of the technique and methods of this alleged science. If
there is anything good in it, it most certainly should be recog-
nized and made use of. If it is based upon fallacious assump-
tions, this fact also should be known.

Phrenology was founded and formulated before any of the
recent startling discoveries of modern science were dreamed of.
In 1815 Gall of Vienna coined the name phrenology and was its
modern progenitor. In America the system was expounded by
Caldwell, the Fowler Brothers and S. R. Wells; in England by
Spurzheim, Combe and Elliotson. The scheme as founded by
Gall is to inspect the scalp and facial features, and judge by
them the possesion or non-possession of certain mental and
moral characteristics. Each of these faculties is supposed to
be located in a certain specified area of the brain. The entire
number of these characteristics or faculties is given as forty-
three, each with its own particular location. The high point of
belief in this alleged science was reached in 1830, there being
at that time thirty phrenological societies. At the present time
the modern exponents of character analysis make use of phren-
ology, physiognomy, palmistry, and hand-writing.

The progress of the scientific study of the brain has rendered
this entire school obsolete. Practical anatomy, physiology and
applied psychology have proved beyond question that the ex-
terior of the skull is by no means an index to mental processes,
this article has been an earnest student of character analysis,
characteristics, faculties, abilities or aptitudes. The writer of
phrenology and physiognomy for many years, but is forced by
the evidence to believe that the wide-sweeping claims of the so-
called character analysts rests on assumptions entirely unwar-

VOL. X1.—35.

546 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

ranted by the facts. Among certain groups of well-meaning but
gullible people the plausible “‘ demonstrations ” of these so-called
character analysts pass for scientific fact and unfortunately in
some parts of the country employment managers and industrial
executives have been taken in by the promise of the acquire-
ment of omnipotence and infallibility in a few easy lessons for a
fat fee paid to these “professors” of character analysis.

Character analysis is not scientific; it is misleading and
without any foundation or scientific basis that justifies its use
in any situation of importance. The following points will give
the reasons for this stand against the use in industry of the so-
called science of character analysis of the phrenological and
physiognomical type.

1. Although cerebral localization for certain sensory and
motor centers has been scientifically demonstrated, it has also
been scientifically demonstrated that there is no similar cerebral
localization for such general traits of character as self-esteem,
acquisitiveness, secretiveness, constructiveness, combativeness,
calculation, language, firmness, spirituality, number, time, tune,
weight, color and the rest of the forty-three faculties claimed
by the character analysts. This at once sweeps away the foun-
dation upon which the entire body of claims of the character
analysts rests. Their main stock in trade is the claim that cer-
tain protuberances or depressions in the skull and certain shapes
and lines of the features of the face indicate the possession or
non-possession of certain specified characteristics or abilities.

2. No scientific data have been presented to prove that there
is any correspondence between size and functional capacity of
any portion of the brain. No scientist has as yet established
any correlation between definite areas of the brain and specific
mental, moral or emotional qualities, but it is a scientifically
established fact that there is no correlation between the volume,
shape or weight of the brain and the general traits of character
emphasized by the analysts.

3. The evidence presented leads us to believe that functional
capacity depends on the complexity and type of structure, of
chemical and molecular action, on the convolutions, fissures, and
on the quality of the brain structure, rather than on mere mass,
weight or shape.

4. It is a scientific fact that the shape and varying thick-
ness of the bones of the head are no indication as to whether
brain tissues of any kind or cerebro-spinal fluid will be found
underneath. In other words, it is a scientifically established
fact that the conformation of the brain does not necessarily
follow the conformation of the outside of the skull.

SCIENTIFIC SELECTION OF MEN 547

5. The entire body of claims made by the character analysts
is based upon limited and very casual observation of exceptional
cases, the observational method being used almost entirely
throughout. The method used throughout the development of
this so-called science has been first to establish a hypothesis and
then to search until some exceptional case is found that will fit
this hypothesis. It is just as easy to find cases that do not fit
as to find those that do.

6. Most of these claims for ability to analyze character are
not based on objective evidence that can be scientifically meas-
ured, weighed, formulated and tested. In all fields of science
research men submit their findings and their evidence to scien-
tific tests by their colleagues and other scientists, before they
give their findings to the world, or attempt to use them for
financial gain.

7. On the basis of physical stigmata alone we are unable to
decide the presence or absence of specific traits or abilities, nor
are we able to decide whether any individual is a desperate or
degenerate criminal, a pervert, a mediocre person or a genius,
an idiot, an imbecile, a madman or a fool. Fine hair or delicate
skin does not necessarily indicate delicacy of perception, judg-
ment or sensitiveness. A “convex, concave, or plane” face is
no criterion of the quality of the brain or of its functioning.
Lombroso, the Italian criminologist, about fifty years ago for-
mulated a system for the detection of criminals by physical
stigmata, such as the shape of the forehead, the nostrils, the
lips, chin, the width of certain portions of the head, etc., but
before his death his entire theory was exploded by Gross, the
German psychologist, and was abandoned by Lombroso himself.

8. Up to the present time no character analyst has pre-
sented any scientific data as proof for the wide-sweeping claims
and assertions made by them.

9. On the basis of the above facts we feel justified in taking
the stand that the claims of the so-called science of character
analysis rest on assumptions entirely unwarranted by the facts.
This being the case we can assume that its use in any situation
of importance will be misleading and harmful.

One of the most fundamental phases of our present civiliza-
tion and particularly of our industrial and commercial develop-
ment is the application of science to all phases of our everyday
life. The modern manufacturer and business man is daily be-
coming more and more of a scientist. He must, and is, develop-
ing the scientific attitude of mind. This is the attitude which
the writer has taken toward character analysis and has re-
sulted in the conclusions formulated above.

548 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

THE ART OF WRITING SCIENTIFIC REPORTS

By F. H. NORTON
ACTING CHIEF PHYSICIST, NATIONAL ADVISORY COMMITTEE FOR AERONAUTICS

HE report is the medium by which the results of investiga-
tion and research are conveyed to those people who are,
or can be, interested in the subject, and like all mediums, to be
efficient, it should carry its message as quickly and as smoothly
as possible. It should not only transmit the actual data ob-
tained, the cold facts and figures, but it should also carry to the
reader a feeling of confidence in the work accomplished, and
should so coordinate the results with similar work, that their
true significance can be realized. A well-written report forms
a reasonable and coherent addition to the world’s knowledge.
As the purpose of the report is to transmit as smoothly and
easily as possible, certain facts and ideas, to the average person
likely to read it, it must, then, be written in a full and simple
enough manner to be comprehended by the least tutored, and still
not be boring to the most learned, of the group who may be
considered as interested readers. This demands clearness of
expression, a concise though complete treatment, and an inter-
esting style of writing.

Perhaps the most important quality a report can have is
interest, for if it is not interesting it will not be read and if it
is not read, it has failed in its purpose. Of course, some dis-
coveries are of such great importance that, even though im-
parted in the most unpalatable form, they are widely and eagerly
read, but these are only occasional instances, for the average
piece of research is not of enough value for many to take the
trouble to read carefully a muddled and dry report of the work.
On the other hand, many will read a clear and interesting re-
port even on subjects to which they have before given little
thought. It is easy to tell an interesting report from an unin-
teresting one, but it is more difficult to determine what features
distinguish a good report from a poor one. The most important
feature in the creation of interest is probably the style of wri-
ting. Style is a rather broad and indefinite term, and various
readers will not agree on what constitutes a good style, but
writing that leaves the reader’s mind in such a condition that

ART OF WRITING SCIENTIFIC REPORTS 549

it can uninterruptedly and contentedly follow the meaning of
the report, without being conscious of the words, is what I
should consider a good style. Like every other piece of writing
the report should have a definite object. There should be no
digression from it, and there should be no doubt in the reader’s
mind what that object is. Awkward and incoherent sentences,
abrupt beginnings and endings of ideas, and incomplete expres-
sion all tend to interrupt the smooth flow of meaning from the
paper to the mind. There are, however, certain cases, when,
for the sake of emphasis, it is desirable to bring out a statement
strongly, by an abrupt breaking of the sequence of ideas, but
this method, to be of value should not be frequently used. Be-
sides the rather obvious requisites for good style, there is that
rather indefinite quality that expresses the individuality of the
writer. Some writers have the happy faculty of making any-
thing they touch upon interesting, and, although it is impossible
to explain just why this should be, I believe that the author
must be really interested in his subject before he can interest
his readers.

To have a wide influence, a report must inspire confidence.
When a statement is made, it must be based on something tang-
ible, so that there will be no feeling of doubt or skepticism as to
its derivation. Ido not mean that no statement should be made
unless it is an indisputable fact, for that would greatly, perhaps
entirely, limit them, but enough information should be given
on the methods and apparatus used in experimentation, to allow
the reader to accurately judge of their validity. For example,
no one would have any confidence in a curve plotted from ex-
perimental data if the actual points observed were not placed
on the curve, or at least a discussion of their accuracy included.
Before any serious experimental work is done, the precision of
the observations should be determined, so that it can be defi-
nitely known just what confidence can be placed on the results.
Perhaps the surest way of winning the confidence of the reader
is to record the data from two runs taken under identical condi-
tions, the check run serving to indicate what may be expected in
the way of precision in the remaining data. When, as is often
the case, certain conditions not under the control of the experi-
menter, as for example the weather, give a considerable degree
of uncertainty to his results, it should be completely explained,
for the least hint of a lack of frankness will defeat the purpose
of that report and will leave any other report by the same writer
open to suspicion.

550 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It is, of course, unnecessary to emphasize the importance of
absolute integrity in any scientific writing, and yet it is so easy
for even the best intentioned experimenter to be unduly influ-
enced by some preconceived idea, that it may not be out of
place to take up this point. It is very easy in many reports,
without deliberately altering the data obtained, to considerably
change the results by omitting facts that do not substantiate
the theory that is trying to be proved. There are cases when
undoubtedly this is intentionally done, but on the whole the
writer is not conscious of any dishonesty, but simply has evolved
a certain theory, and can not conceive of any results being cor-
rect that do not fit in with that theory. It is the most difficult
thing in the world to approach a subject with an open mind and
draw conclusions with entire impartiality, in fact the human
mind is not constituted that way, and only with practise and
care can we approach that ideal condition. We are always try-
ing to twist the facts, wherever they have the least flexibility,
to fit together into a reasonable whole, and it takes the greatest
care not to twist them beyond the permissible limits. It is
always better to omit a whole set of data, part of which is in
disagreement with the rest, than to assume one portion as cor-
rect, and find in further experiments, that the wrong portion
had been published, an embarrassment that I am afraid a good
many investigators have experienced.

In order that the reader may understand the report as quickly
and with as little effort as possible, it should be written clearly.
Clearness depends on several factors, the most important of
which is to write exactly what is meant. It is very difficult for
a person who has studied a certain subject thoroughly, to put
himself in the reader’s place, and write with enough complete-
ness to cover all uncertain points. Facts which seem to him
self evident, are unknown to the reader, so that it requires the
greatest care to cover all uncertainties that may arise in his
mind. It is often the case that a person can write more clearly
on a subject which he is still struggling with, than after he has
completely mastered it. On the other hand, it is equally injuri-
ous to clearness to write too much. Long introductions, lengthy
descriptions and the carrying of deductions beyond the limit
set by the completeness and accuracy of the data, all tend to
obscure the meaning. One of the most common faults in re-
ports is profuseness, some writers having developed the art of
expressing a one sentence idea into a whole paragraph, to a high
degree. Such spreading tires the reader so that he often does

ART OF WRITING SCIENTIFIC REPORTS 551

not take the trouble to search a whole page to find the few sen-
tences of value. Writing reports with the idea of covering as

many pages as possible is an excellent way of limiting its
’ readers to those whose time is of little value.

As in any kind of writing, clearness is dependent on the
three essentials, unity, coherence and emphasis. A report
should not cover too much territory or no one will take the time
to search for the particular part they want, and any digression
takes the mind away from the main thought. The writer
should not rush into his subject at full speed neither should he
take an unduly long time to get started, or the reader’s interest
will be lost, but he should lead up to his subject naturally and
directly in a few sentences or a paragraph, stating the reasons
for undertaking the report. It has been the practise with some
writers to summarize briefly their report near the beginning.
This enables one to tell at a glance just what the report is about,
and except for very brief papers, should always be done. The
material in the body of the report should be arranged in a logi-
cal manner, description of apparatus, methods of testing, results
and conclusions. The end of a report remains longest in the
reader’s mind, so that there should be placed the statements
which it is desired to give the most emphasis. It is good prac-
tise in long reports to place subtitles before each paragraph or
group of paragraphs so that any particular portion can be found
at a glance. After a report has been written, it often happens
that the author has some further additions to make; and in-
stead of rewriting the report, the additional material is usually
added in the form of a supplement or appendix. This pro-
cedure somewhat destroys the literary quality of the report, but
is sometimes necessary. It is, however, a great help to clear-
ness to place in an appendix any mathematical proofs and com-
putations that are not absolutely necessary for the understand-
ing of the report.

Photographs and other illustrations are of the greatest
value; first to make the report interesting, and second to make
it clear and concise. A report well illustrated, especially with
photographs will be much more widely read than one without
illustrations. A picture creates interest, because it stimulates
the imagination and because it shows under just what condi-
tions the experimental work was conducted, giving a more
personal note to the whole report. Further than this, a good
illustration is often the quickest way to convey an idea, and
every one likes to absorb his knowledge with the least effort.

552 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

It often happens that a good illustration will do the work of a
whole page of description and in about one tenth of the reader’s
time. For the same reason results should be shown wherever
possible in graphical form, a method that is almost universally
used. When the results can be plotted as precisely as the data
permit, there is no need of giving the data in tabular form.
Each illustration should have a title and a short explanation,
so that the reader can tell at once what he is looking at without
the necessity of searching through the text, and it is also ad-
visable to place the illustrations as closely as possible to the
portion of the text to which they refer.

There are many writers, some good and some poor, who
convey an air of self-importance in their works which does
much to detract from their popularity. It is right and natural
that a man should be proud of a good piece of work that he has
accomplished, but to constantly remind the reader of it, is cer-
tainly poor taste. A good report may be safely allowed to rest
on its own merits, and will receive its recognition much quicker
if accompanied by a degree of modesty. Again some writers
make themselves unpopular by not giving credit in the report
to the men who have been working under him during its prep-
aration. No one ever gained anything in the long run by with-
holding proper credit, and I am sure they have never lost by
showing the value of their assistants’ services. Another bad
habit some writers have is to depreciate the previous work of
others along their line, and claim more originality for their
work than the facts will permit. Such procedure leads only to
unpopularity, and the public is never fooled for long. It is well,
then, to write in a modest and straightforward manner, and to
give others their due amount of credit.

There is always the problem of bringing together the so-
called practical and theoretical men. The mathematician
rather scorns the engineer who is not versed in higher mathe-
matics, and the engineer, in turn, often regards the mathema-
tician’s work as a waste of white paper. It is strange how dis-
tinctly separated are the two classes and how few men really
sympathize with both. It can be more or less truly said that
the engineer’s definition of theoretical, is something he can not
understand, and the mathematician’s definition of practical is
something he can not do. As the mathematician is chiefly
known through his writings, it is important that he present
his ideas in a form that will do the greatest amount of good;
that is, his reports should be read not only by his fellow mathe-

ART OF WRITING SCIENTIFIC REPORTS 553

maticians, but also by the men who can make use of them in
engineering and industrial development.

Even though a man has the training and the ability to handle
higher mathematics, unless he has the time to frequently use it,
it will soon become difficult for him to follow carefully the work
of others. Also the engineer is too busy to spend much time
on theory, even if he were able to handle it easily. There are,
of course, a few men who are practical engineers and at the
same time great mathematicians, but such men are few, as the
average engineer feels that he can better obtain a mathemati-
cian to do his work for him than to spend the time himself.

For these reasons, the average scientific reports should not,
as is too often the case, be so filled with complex mathematical
discussions that real results and conclusions are so completely
obscured that the engineer can not take the time to find them.
In order to bring the physical meaning out clearly, plots should
be frequently used. For example a complex equation repre-
senting harmonic motion would mean very little to most people,
but a curve of the motion against time would show at a glance
just what was meant.

There are a great many reports whose influence would be
tremendously increased by the reduction of the number of in-
tegral signs and an increase in the number of illustrations.
Most people will naturally skip quickly over any mathematics
that occurs in a report in the same way that they would dodge
a patch of mud in the street, and if the mud becomes too thick
they will take some other way, and yet these are the people who
could make the greatest use of the material contained in the
report. On the other hand every one will look at a picture,
especially a photograph, even though they are only remotely in-
terested in the subject, and often their curosity will be aroused
enough so that they will completely read the report. It is much
easier to write a description than to make a drawing or take
a photograph, but when it is considered that each person read-
ing the report will be saved several minutes by doing the latter,
there is no question of its value. In the same way it is easier
to write an abstract equation than it is to give a clear physical
conception of the relation, but the latter will save most readers
much time and trouble.

There are of course reports which consist primarily of pure
mathematics, and are of use chiefly to the mathematician, so
that the writer can assume that all of his readers will have such
an understanding of allied work, that it will be unnecessary to

554 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

go into detailed discussion of his results. And there are works
of such advanced and original thought that it is impossible to
describe them in terms that would be understood by any except
the most illustrious scientists. Such works as these are un-
fortunately in a vast minority, and there are very few scientific
reports that have no material of direct value to the engineer and
the industrial chemist or physicist.

It may be well to say a few words about the mechanical side
of report writing, and in doing so it will be necessary to digress
a bit to the methods of experimentation and collection of data.
All data should be collected logically and neatly, and everything
should be labelled, as what may be clear and obvious at one
time may be quite obscure after a lapse of afew months. Again
it is well to work up the data as far as possible as the work
goes on, not only to check up on the validity of the observations,
and to determine the completeness of the data required, but
also to get the results in such shape that they can later be
readily combined into a report, and no pains should be spared
to constantly check up the results obtained in order to detect
errors that might affect a long series of experiments. A com-
plete photographic record should be made as the work pro-
gresses, or it may be necessary later to go to considerable extra
work to obtain an illustration.

After all the necessary data have been collected, it is gener-
ally best to construct an outline so that the methods used, the
results and the conclusions may be placed in logical order and,
after this, all plots and other illustrations should be prepared
and numbered in their proper sequence. The first draft of the
report can then be written or dictated, and a dictaphone is a
very convenient instrument for this purpose. Very few can
write a report just as they wish it the first time, and like all
other kinds of careful composition it requires a considerable
amount of revision. It is of great value to have the aid and
criticism of others in this stage, as the author loses his sense of
perspective after working for a long time on one report.

In conclusion, the purpose of the report should be to carry
some fact or theory so interestingly, so briefly, and so clearly
that the busy world will stop to read it, and having read it will
pause to think, for the ability to make men think in a new way
should be the aim of every writer.

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 595

THE ESSENTIAL CHARACTERISTICS OF
UNITED STATES CLIMATES’

By Professor ROBERT DeC. WARD
HARVARD UNIVERSITY, CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

Climatic Provinces of the United States——For purposes of
general description, it is convenient to subdivide the United
States into certain climatic districts or provinces. The largest,
or Hastern, extends from the eastern margin of the Great
Plains, which roughly coincides with the 20 inch annual rain-
fall line and also with the 100th meridian, to the Atlantic
Ocean, and southward nearly to the Gulf of Mexico. The strip
bordering on the Gulf may be set apart as a subordinate dis-
trict, the Gulf province. The Plains province includes the
Great Plains proper, and extends westward to the Rocky Moun-
tains. Between the Rocky Mountains and the Sierra Nevada-
Cascade ranges comes the Plateau province. The Pacific Slope
constitutes a natural climatic region which may be called the
Pacific province.

The differences between north and south, resulting from
Gifferences in latitude, suggest a further subdivision of the
Plains, Plateau, and Pacific provinces into northern and south-
ern sections. Similarly, the Gulf province occupies the more
southern latitudes of the Eastern province.

The Eastern Climatic Province—The Eastern Province,
enormous as is its extent, is nevertheless characterized by great
uniformity in its climatic conditions and in its weather types.
It has a continental climate, but with abundant, or at any rate
sufficient rainfall. Over most of it the seasons are strongly
contrasted. The summers are very warm and the winters cold.
But the hot summers, with sufficient rainfall, usually insure
abundant harvests, and the cold winters, while severe in north-
ern sections, are on the whole stimulating and tonic. The in-
fluence of the Atlantic Ocean is minimized by the fact that the
prevailing winds are off-shore throughout the year, being north-

1 Reference may be made to the following papers by the same author:
“Two Climatic Cross-Sections of the United States,” Mo. Wea. Rev.,
Vol. 40, 1912, pp. 1909-1917; “ Lorin Blodget’s ‘ Climatology of the United
States.’ An Appreciation,” ibid., Vol. 42, 1914, pp. 23-27.

2See R. DeC. Ward, “ Climatic Subdivisions of the United States,”
Bull. Amer. Geogr. Soc., Vol. 47, 1915, pp. 672-680.

556 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

west in winter over much of the coast, and southwest in sum-
mer. Thus it follows that there can be but little of the temper-
ing effect usually associated with conservative ocean waters,
and the coastal belt, except when the wind blows onshore under
general cyclonic or anticyclonic controls, or when, in summer,
local sea breezes occur, does not differ very much from the in-
terior. One aspect of this situation is clearly illustrated on the
chart of equal annual ranges of temperature. The large ranges
of the interior are carried eastward to the coast, and even on to
the ocean for some distance offshore. The continentality of the
Atlantic coast climate, with its slight marine modifications, was
well described by Blodget when he wrote that on the immediate
coast “a local oceanic climate exists, but it is always blended
with the continental features which belong to this part of the
continent generally.’”

There are only relatively slight and unimportant differences
of topography. The whole area is freely open, to Canada on the
north; to the Atlantic Ocean on the east; to the Gulf of Mexico
on the south. With the warm Gulf on the south and the cold
Canadian plains on the north, the winter temperature-gradients
between north and south are unusually steep. In January, the
isotherms over the eastern United States are very closely
crowded together. The temperature then decreases northward
at the rate of 2.7° Fahr. in each degree of latitude, both on the
Atlantic coast and in the Mississippi Valley. Thisis an extraor-
dinarily rapid temperature-gradient, and may be contrasted
with the very much weaker gradient along the western coast of
Europe in winter. As seen on the chart of mean annual tem-
peratures, one may go north in western Europe a distance of a
thousand miles without finding a change of temperature as
great as that met with in half as long a journey along the east-
ern coast of the United States. In summer, North America is
‘well and relatively very uniformly warmed. There is then
much less difference of temperature between south and north.
The temperature-gradient is greatly weakened. It becomes
1.1° along the eastern coast, and 0.7° in the Mississippi Valley.
The temperature conditions may be very briefly generalized as
follows:

District Mean Annual Jan, July Abs, Max. Abs. Min.
Neat 40° 5°-10° 65° 100°—105° —40° to —50°
Seen 65°—70° 50°—55° + 80°+ 105° zero—10°

The average dates of first and last frost, broadly generalized,
are as follows:
’ Lorin Blodget, “ Climatology of the United States,” 1857.

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 557

District Last Spring First Autumn Av. Length of Growing Season

Dies.» « After June 1 Sept. (extreme N.) 3-4 months
(extreme N.)

SSBB Before March 1 November 7 months and over

Besides having a great uniformity of temperature condi-
tions, considering its extent, the eastern climatic district of the
United States also has, as a whole, a plentiful rainfall, well dis-
tributed throughout the year. Disregarding local areas on
the mountains, the annual rainfall is greatest (50+ inches)
towards the Gulf, and on the South Atlantic coast, most of the
supply of water vapor for this precipitation coming from the
Gulf and Atlantic Ocean, and decreases from about 40—45 inches
over much of the north and central Atlantic coast and Ohio val-
ley to 30—40 inches over the prairies, and 20 inches at about
the 100th meridian. Although the rainfall is comparatively
small at the western margin of the district, it is very well ap-
portioned through the year. The maximum over the great
farming states of the Mississippi valley region comes when it
is most needed, 7.e., in the growing season of late spring and
early summer. Of this region it has been well said:

Although droughts sometimes affect considerable districts, and floods
occasionally devastate the larger valleys, yet the world hardly contains
so large an area as this so well adapted to civilized occupation.*

Nowhere in this district is there permanent necessity of irri-
gation, as there is in many places farther west. The rainfall
comes chiefly from the ordinary cyclonic storms of the prevail-
ing westerly winds. The spring and early summery rainfall of
the Mississippi valley and adjacent regions is largely a local
thundershower rain, and naturally occurs with the greatest fre-
quency during the warmer months. In the colder season, with
high pressures and with winds prevailingly blowing out from
the continent, there is less opportunity for precipitation. In
late summer the rainfall along the Gulf and Atlantic coasts is
generally at a maximum, for the inflowing winds are then very
warm and moist, and there are many thunderstorms. Along
these coasts occasional West Indian hurricanes, in August, Sep-
tember, or October, give heavy rains and not infrequently dam-
age buildings and crops. In Florida, the heavy August and
September rains are almost tropical in character. In Tennes-
see and adjacent parts of Mississippi, North Carolina, Georgia,
and Alabama there is a late winter or early spring maximum
of precipitation.

4W. M. Davis, “ Elementary Meteorology,” page 301.

558 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

Rain falls most often, and hence the number of rainy days
and the rain probability are greatest, in the Great Lakes region.
This same district is also more cloudy than any other portion of
the country except the northwest coast. The explanation of
these conditions is found in the frequency of cyclonic storms,
accompanied by general rains and by extended cloud sheets,
over the Great Lakes and along the St. Lawrence Valley. Snow
falls throughout a long season and in considerable amounts
over these same northern and northeastern sections. Towards
the south, the snow season becomes shorter and shorter; the
snow lies on the ground less and less time. It finally becomes
an almost, and then an entirely negligible factor.

Rapid and marked weather changes are characteristic of the
eastern United States. These “‘ paroxysms of change” (Blod-
get), which occur during the passage of numerous well-devel-
oped cyclonic storms, are unique for their suddenness, fre-
quency and amount, especially in winter. They result from
the bringing together, around the passing low-pressure centers,
of winds of different directions and of very different temper-
ature and moisture conditions, depending upon the character-
istics of the regions from which these winds come. The winter
dry northwest winds are often piercingly cold, coming as they
do directly from the cold continental interior, and may cause a
fall of temperature of 30° to 50° Fahr. in twenty-four hours,
reducing the temperature to zero or lower (‘‘cold waves’’).
They blow on the rear of cyclonic storms, and follow warmer
and damper southerly or easterly winds which bring rain or
snow. Several short periods of extreme cold are to be looked
for every winter. During the warmer months, similar north-
west winds bring the summer cool spells. The warmest
weather, in winter as in summer, is brought by southerly and
southwesterly winds which, coming from lower and warmer
latitudes, blow north into a passing storm-center. In winter
these southerly spells, while ‘“‘unseasonably’”’ warm, serve to
break the monotony of the cold. In summer, with its high tem-
peratures and high relative humidity, this same “sirocco”
weather type is uncomfortably muggy and depressing, and
often brings sunstrokes. The summers always bring spells of
extreme heat of this type. In winter, the northeast cyclonic .
winds on the northern Atlantic coast are damp and unpleas-
antly chilly, blowing onshore from the cold ocean waters. In
summer, their low temperatures bring welcome relief from the
heat. In such a region, where sudden and irregular weather
changes are so characteristic, climatic averages can give little

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 559

idea of the actual conditions which are experienced from day
to day. Seasons often differ markedly in character from year
to year. Weather changes are erratic and unexpected. It has
become a popular saying that almost any kind of weather may
be expected at any time of the year.

Thunderstorms, many of them of wide extent and of great
violence, are characteristic summer phenomena over the eastern
and southern United States. The far more severe tornadoes,
fortunately of much less frequent occurrence, develop most
often over the great lowlands of the central and upper Missis-
sippi and of the lower Missouri Valleys. Tornadoes, as well as
the more violent thunderstorms, have a habit of springing up
along the dividing (‘‘wind-shift”) line between the warm
southerly (‘‘sirocco”) type of weather in front of a passing
summer cyclonic storm and the cool northwesterly (summer
cool wave) type on its rear.

The Gulf Province.—Over the southern tier of States bor-
dering on the Gulf of Mexico the temperatures are higher; the
winters are much milder; the summers are longer and hotter;
the rainfall is heavier, and has a late summer or early autumn
maximum. With increasing distance from the most frequented
cyclonic paths, which follow along the northern border of the
United States, the cyclonic control is weaker; the irregular
wind, temperature and weather changes are fewer, less sudden,
and less emphatic; the diurnal phenomena are more marked,
even in winter; the weather is more stable; conditions are more
settled. In winter, cyclones which give heavy snows and
marked wind changes followed by cold waves over northern
sections, often bring but littie cloud and rain, without marked
temperature variations, over the Gulf States. The southern
States are, nevertheless, subject to occasional invasions of con-
siderable cold in winter, during the prevalence of north and
northwest winds on the rear of well-developed cyclonic storms.
These winter cold waves sweep east and southeast as far as the
southern Atlantic and Gulf coasts, but their intensity dimin-
ishes rapidly as they advance into more southern latitudes.
The occurrence in districts of high mean annual temperature
of frosts of sufficient severity to injure the more sensitive crops,
is a characteristic of southeastern North America, and is one
of the marked, and economically one of the most unfortunate,
features of the climate of the Gulf Province, which is other-
wise in many ways singularly favored. Snow becomes a rarity.
Over the sections immediately adjacent to the Gulf, it is prac-
tically negligible. On the warm, damp lowlands there is the

560 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

wealth of southern cotton, and sugar cane, and semi-tropical
fruits, and from the truck gardens of the southern Atlantic
coast immense quantities of early vegetables are shipped north,
by rail and by water, to the markets of the great northern cities.
The severe winters in the north effectually put a stop to most
outdoor occupations during the colder months, although giving
rise to others, such, e.g., as ice-cutting and lumbering. In the
Gulf Province, on the other hand, and over the closely adjoin-
ing sections of the Eastern Province, most agricultural and
other outdoor work can be continued throughout the year.

The Plains Province.—The essential difference between the
climate of the Great Plains and that of the Eastern province is
not so much one of general temperature conditions as of rain-
fall. The Plains, like the rest of the great region lying to the
eastward, have a continental climate. They lie at a distance
from large bodies of water, and have massive mountain bar-
riers on the west, between them and the Pacific Ocean.

The following table summarizes the temperatures:

District Mean Annual Jan, July Abs, Max. Abs, Min.
IN Rersistsve scoters 40° 0°-10° 65°—70° 105°-110° —50° to —60°
SSE Yor Cite Selerava 65° 40°-50° 80°-85° 110° zero

As compared with the eastern States, the Plains have larger
diurnal ranges of temperature; more abundant sunshine; drier
air; greater evaporation; smaller rain probability; less rain;
more wind. The prevailing winds have a monsoonal character:
they are northerly and northwesterly in winter and southerly
and southeasterly in summer. There is a well-marked diurnal
variation in velocity on days whose weather is not under strong
cyclonic control.

Rainfall is the fundamental climatic factor. From the more
abundant precipitation towards the Atlantic and Gulf, the mean
annual rainfall decreases westward until, at the eastern margin
of the Plains, it averages about 20 inches, and towards the
western margin decreases still further to below 15 inches. No
sudden change, either in topography or in climate, takes place
along the 100th meridian, but where the mean annual rainfall
averages less than 20 inches, the amount is too small, under
ordinary circumstances, for permanently successful agricul-
ture, on a large scale, without irrigation. Another disadvan-
tage of a small rainfall is its variability from year to year.
Remarkable results have been attained by “dry farming”
methods over parts of the Plains, in the case of certain crops
which require little water, and in seasons with favorable rain-

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 561

fall. Dry farming is, however, a precarious venture, and can
not be counted on to give results comparable with those ob-
tained in a well-watered or well-irrigated country. The natural
limitations of the country are clearly recognized. Its best use
is not to be found in the old-time boundless cattle ranges, nor in
vast farms which depend solely upon the natural rainfall, but
rather in smaller individual farms and cattle ranches, where
irrigation from streams or from ground-water is possible. The
relatively high and steady velocities of the winds over the
Plains have proved a reliable source of power in driving the
windmills which are widely used for pumping water for irriga-
tion. This relation of the 20 inch rainfall line to agriculture
has locally long been recognized. ‘‘ East of it lies success; west
of it, failure. Look out for the ‘dead-line.’” The critical
boundary thus termed the “dead-line” has played an impor-
tant part in the settlement and development of the Great Plains.

The distribution of the rainfall in normal years is singularly
favorable over most of the Plains province. The maximum usu-
ally comes in late spring or early summer, when moisture is
most needed by the growing crops. To the southward (New
Mexico), the maximum is retarded until mid- or late summer.
These warm-season rains are spasmodic, and fall chiefly in
the form of brief and local thundershowers. Winter is the dry
season. In the north, the winter precipitation is mostly in the
form of snow, but the amounts are considerably less than those
of the same latitudes farther east. Over the southern Plains,
where the winters are warmer, the winter snows average under
10 inches in depth, and are even under 5 inches in western
Texas and southernmost New Mexico.

Cyclonic control is less marked than in the east, partly be-
cause fewer cyclonic storms pass over or near the Plains, and
partly because the storms are generally of a milder type. Ir-
regular weather changes are most frequent over the northern
Plains States, which are nearer the main storm track. In the
south, the sequence of weather changes is much more uniform.
Diurnal rather than cyclonic controls are dominant most of the
year. The more severe winter cyclones bring sudden tem-
perature changes, severe gales, driving snow and extreme cold
(“blizzards”). Cold waves, sweeping southward and east-
ward from western Canada, occasionally reach as far south as
Texas, where they cause sudden and marked falls in temper-
ature, with chilling northerly winds (‘“northers’”). Much of
the winter weather, however, is dry, clear, settled and bracing.
Locally, along the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains, the

VOL. XI.— 36.

562 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

winter cold is often tempered by warm chinook winds. Long
spells of hot, dry, typical, diurnal weather, with southerly
winds, are characteristic of much of the summer. When con-
tinued for many days, or sometimes even for weeks, unbroken
by general rains or by widespread thundershowers, such spells
are associated with extended droughts and result in injury to
crops, especially when accompanied by certain hot and dry
winds which are characteristic of the Great Plains (“hot
winds’). While thunderstorms are of frequent occurrence
during the warmer months, tornadoes are relatively rare.

On the west, the Plains province gradually merges into the
eastern foothills and slopes of the Rocky Mountains. Here the
greater elevations and the topographic irregularities give rise
to special climatic features which are associated with moun-
tain and plateau climates. Colorado has become famous for its
health resorts. With a small annual rainfall; light winter pre-
cipitation; few storms; little cloudiness; dry, stimulating air,
and comparative immunity from many of the sudden and
severe weather changes characteristic of the east, there are
evident advantages for invalids in this region.

The Plateau Province—The Plateau province is a great
interior region of very diversified topography. It has a wide
range of mountain, high plateau and arid lowland climates,
superposed upon and causing local modifications of the general
dry continental climate of the province as a whole. ‘“ Climato-
logical topography ” (Blodget) is here highly significant. The
diversity of topography results in a very “patchy” distribu-
tion of climates and of vegetation, as local variations of tem-
perature, frost, rainfall, etc., may determine. The winds, also,
are largely topographically controlled, both in the case of the
local mountain and valley breezes and of the more general
cyclonic wind directions.

The outstanding characteristic is the small rainfall, which,
however, shows marked increase with altitude. The higher
mountains and plateaus have distinctly more precipitation than
the neighboring lowlands. With the exception of local areas
in the mountains, the mean annual rainfall is everywhere less
than 20 inches; it is mostly below 10 inches, and over no insig-
nificant portion of the southwest it is even below 5 inches. This
is the region of what, not many decades ago, was known as the
“Great American Desert”; of Great Salt Lake; of the interior
drainage basis of Nevada, the “artificial State.” The real
“American desert” is in southeastern California, southwest-
ern Arizona and western Nevada. Death Valley is here, with

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 563

its famous borax and its intense summer heat. The Salton Sea
is here—an anomaly in a true desert. The Black Rock desert;
the “sinks,” and the soda deposits of western Nevada are here.
With the high mountain barrier on the west, the whole plateau
district is in the rainshadow. Arid or semi-arid conditions
are to be expected, except where the higher mountains or pla-
teaus give rise to more plentiful precipitation, especially in the
north, where general storms occur more frequently, and where
the barrier is less effective. Even in the south, where the rain-
fall is less, the higher elevations are fairly well watered. The
name of the Aquarius Plateau is a suggestive one. The Rocky
Mountains are so far from the Pacific that their rainfall is not
as a whole heavy. They are, furthermore, to leeward of the
considerable ranges of the Sierra Nevada-Cascades.

Irrigation is made necessary by reason of the deficient rain-
fall, although dry-farming is carried on in certain sections, as,
é.g., in eastern Washington, with considerable success. Wher-
ever the streams, supplied by the melting snows and the
heavier rainfall of the higher mountains, afford sufficient
water, there green oases of varied crops, dotted with fruit and
shade trees, break the monotony of the “desert.” Most of the
winter precipitation is in the form of snow, which is decidedly
heavier in the north than in the south, and over the higher ele-
vations than over the lower lands. In the far southwest, snow
is rarely seen except on the mountains. The rainfall distribu-
tion through the year varies greatly in different portions of
the district. In the north, there is generally a late winter or
early spring maximum. In the south, the primary maximum
usually comes in late summer, with a secondary maximum in
winter. The winter rains and snows are cyclonic. Frequent,
often daily, thunderstorm rains are characteristic of the
warmer months, especially over the mountains. The rain prob-
ability is below 20 per cent., and the minimum number of rainy
days in the United States is found in the far southwest (under
30).

Temperatures are so largely controlled by the topography
that even broad generalization is almost impossible. The es-
sential facts may roughly be given as follows:

District Mean Annual Jan, July Abs, Max, Abs. Min,
1 eae 50° 25°-30° 65°-70° 100°-105° —10° to —30°
Snes | 60°-70° 40°-50°+ 80°-90°+ 110°-120°+ zero to 20°

Minimum temperatures and frost occurrence are mostly a
matter of local topographic control and of local air drainage.

564 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

The dates of first and last frost are very variable. The sum-
mers of the southern lowlands are long and intensely hot, but
the low humidity is an important factor in making the high
temperatures endurable. The southern winters are compara-
tively mild, dry and bracing. In the north, the heat of the
summer is much less severe, and the winters are colder. The
districts west of the Rocky Mountains are, however, to a great
extent protected against severe cold waves of the eastern type.
Dry, stimulating air; an abundance of sunshine; large diurnal
ranges of temperature—these are dominant characteristics of
the Plateau climates, taken in the large. Diurnal ranges of 40°
or more are by no means uncommon. Cool nights follow hot
days in summer, especially on the mountains and plateaus.
Periodic diurnal, rather than irregular cyclonic, weather types
are dominant.

The Plateau province is beyond the reach of most of the
cyclonic storms which so largely control the weather and cli-
mate of the rest of the country. At intervals, winter storms,
coming from the Pacific, cross the northern portion of the dis-
trict on their eastward course along the northern track, and
other, but not greatly frequented, storm tracks cross the cen-
tral and southern parts. Hence, as a whole, there is a decided
lack of sudden, irregular and severe weather changes. The
maximum cyclonic control, here as elsewhere, is in the colder
months, but few of the winter storms bring heavy precipita-
tion. Even in winter, long spells of fine, bright weather, with
light winds, moderately warm days and cold nights are com-
mon. Summer weather is characteristically fine and settled,
broken by afternoon or evening thundershowers, and occa-
sionally by the cloud sheet and general rains of a passing sum-
mer cyclonic storm.

The Pacific Province.—Over the narrow Pacific coastal belt
climatic conditions are quite unlike those elsewhere in the coun-
try, and in many respects resemble those of northwestern and
western Europe, including the Mediterranean area. Blodget
gave an excellent brief yet comprehensive climatic comparison
when he wrote that “the Pacific coast climates are Norwegian,
English and Spanish or Portuguese, with the intermediate
France blotted out.”®> The similarity of climates in southern
California and in the countries bordering upon the Mediter-
ranean explains the similarity of many of the agricultural
products and fruits, and of the general methods of cultivation,
in these two regions. Exposed to the influence of the warm

5 Lorin Blodget, loc. cit.

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 565

Pacific, with the prevailing westerly winds coming directly
from the conservative ocean, and protected on the east by high
mountains, the Slope as a whole has a modified marine or wind-
ward coast climate. A typical west coast subtropical climate is
found in California. The wide range of latitude between north
and south, together with the varying topographic controls and
the differences of exposure to the ocean influences, explain the
great variety of climates which are found in this province.
These range from those of the rainy and densely forested
slopes of Washington to those of semi-arid southern California;
from those of the lowlands to those of the snow-covered moun-
tain tops; from the cool summers of the coast to the hot sum-
mers of the Great Valley. The climate is, in general, mild and
equable, with slight diurnal and seasonal ranges. The rela-
tively small seasonal change is common both to the cool and
humid climate of the far northwest and to the warm and dry
climate of the southern interior.

The following table summarizes, in a very general way, the
essential temperature characteristics of the Pacific province.

District Mean Annual Jan, July Abs. Max. Abs, Min.
Dee ciate 5 50°—55° 35°—40° 60°—65°-+ 95°-105° 10°-0°
Soiastes ss 65° + 50°-55° 65°—75° + 110°-115° 20°+-10°

The relatively high winter temperatures insure the Pacific
coast harbors against freezing, whereas on the northern At-
lantic coast ice not infrequently causes difficulty to navigation
in severe winters. Further, the mountain barrier of the great
Sierra Nevada and Cascade ranges to a large extent keeps out
the extremes of winter cold which are found over the interior
districts to the east. Under the influence of the warm ocean
current eddy which circulates from right to left in the Bay of
Alaska, and of the cool return current which flows along Cali-
fornia and Mexico on its way equatorward, the isotherms
along the Pacific coast are spread far apart. Hence there are
but slight differences of temperature between north and south
along the coast, and the rates of temperature-decrease per |lati-
tude degree from San Diego to Sitka are but 0.95° in January,
0.65° in July, and 0.8° for the year. These temperature-gra-
dients may be compared with the much steeper gradients of the
Eastern province, previously referred to. The chart of equal
annual ranges of temperature shows clearly how small is the
seasonal change of temperature along this coastal strip (not
over 25°), while across the mountains, in the interior, the
ranges reach 40°, 50° and even 60°. No such severe winter

566 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

cold waves are experienced here as to the east of the Rocky
Mountains, or even over the Plateau. The area over which
frost does not occur annually includes southern California. In
the region around San Diego, killing frost occurs in less than
half of the winters. The attractions of outdoor life during the
colder months in southern California have made this locality a
favorite winter resort for those who wish to escape the rigors
of more severe northern latitudes.

The interior valley of California, between the Coast Range
and the Sierra Nevada, being well shut off from the ocean, is
very hot, dry and sunny in summer, especially in the south,
while the immediate sea-coast is cool, damp and often foggy.
The crowded July isotherms show very clearly the difference
between the temperatures of the interior and those of the coast.
This is one of the most remarkable contrasts in the world over
so restricted an area. The strong diurnal ranges of temper-
ature over the interior valley give relatively cool nights and the
dryness of the air relieves the great heat of the days. The
high inland summer temperatures result in the prevalence of
cool onshore daytime winds, which are unusually well devel-
oped at San Francisco. Sea-breezes are a characteristic fea-
ture of the whole coast.

The rainfall is heavy (over 100 inches) on the northwest-
ern coast of Washington, and decreases rapidly to the south, to
about 10 inches on the extreme southern coast of California,
and less than 10 inches in the San Joaquin Valley. There is a
marked seasonal periodicity. The maximum comes in winter.
General cyclonic storms are then most frequent; they then
travel farther south; the land is colder than the ocean; the pre-
vailing winds have more of a southerly component. Some
southern districts are actually without any rain in summer,
and then become very dry and dusty. In the north, however,
it rains more or less all through the summer months, although
the winter maximum remains. The rainfall migrates from
north to south as winter approaches, 7.e., the rains in the south
are distinctly subtropical in character, and correspond to the
winter rains of the Mediterranean districts of Europe. As
Woeikof first pointed out, these rains extend farther north in
western North America than happens anywhere else in the
world. The rains come when the “stormy westerly winds”
are farthest south, and cease when the northward migration of
the tropical high pressure belt displaces the storm-bearing
westerlies polewards. Even in the so-called “‘rainy season”

6 A, Woeikof, “ Die Klimate der Erde,” 1887, p. 24.

CHARACTERISTICS OF UNITED STATES CLIMATES 567

of winter, the rains are generally light; they are not steady and
continuous, usually lasting but two or three days and separated
by spells of fine, sunny weather. On the extreme northwest
coast, rain falls on nearly half of the days in the year. There
is a marked decrease in the number of rainy days, as well as in
the mean annual rainfali, from north to south. From the point
of view of an outdoor life, southern California is favored in
having very few rainy days. Over the lowlands of the Pacific
Slope, snowfall is of little importance. Even in the north it is
very light, and on the coast it becomes practically a negligible
factor south of the northern boundary of California. On the
mountains, however, even in southern California, snow falls
frequently, and on the western slopes of the high Sierras and
of the Cascades it is very heavy. The water-supply from these
melting mountain snowfields is of supreme importance in irri-
gating the fertile and productive valleys and lowlands, whose
natural water supply, in the form of rainfall, is insufficient for
agriculture and for fruit-raising.

The Pacific Slope is not subjected to violent weather
changes. During the winter, a series of general cyclonic
storms moves eastward across the northern portion of the
province, and occasional storms come in farther south, or their
paths carry them south to the more southern latitudes. Hence
the northern districts have more rain, more cloud, and more
frequent weather changes than the southern. The amount and
distribution of the annual rainfall are controlled by the num-
ber, intensity and paths of the winter storms. When these
extend farther southward, and are better developed, the rain-
fall is heavier and more widely distributed. In general, rain
falls with the cyclonic winds in the southern quadrants, and
fair weather prevails with northerly cyclonic winds. The
changes in wind direction bring changes of temperature, but
the general temperature gradient being weak, and the regions
from which the different winds come not differing greatly in
temperature, sudden and marked rises and falls of the ther-
mometer do not occur. In general, southerly to westerly winds
are warm in winter and cool in summer; northerly to easterly
winds are cool in winter and warm in summer. The rains of
summer, where they occur, are as a rule light and local in char-
acter, and fall mostly in the north and on the mountains. The
cold-season precipitation comes in the form of general cyclonic
rainy spells. Thunderstorms are infrequent, and usually light;
rarer on the coast and more common inland and on the higher
mountains. Special cyclonic winds, having certain marked

568 THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

peculiarities, occur over some sections, under the combined
control of the pressure distribution and of the topography.
The “ northers ” of the great valley of California have a chinook
or foehn character. They are dry and dusty and may be in-
jurious to crops. The “Santa Ana” of southern California is
also a hot, dry and dusty wind, somewhat similar to the norther.
It blows from northerly or easterly points, and is trying to
men and animals. Coming from the dry interior, it reaches
the southern coast with the characteristics of a desert wind.

The Valley of California is a great agricultural and fruit-
raising district, as is the Willamette Valley in Oregon. The
summer dry season is a favorable climatic feature during har-
vest-time, and for drying fruits in the open air. The western
slopes of the Sierra Nevada are well watered and forested,
while the eastern (leeward) slopes are dry. On the Cascades
and on the northern Coast Range there are also abundant for-
ests. North of San Francisco, on the western slope of the
Coast Range, are the famous redwood trees, and the “ Oregon
pine,” from farther north, has been known the world over be-
cause of its usefulness for ships’ masts and spars.

BIBLIOGRAPHIC NOTE.—For general statistical information
concerning all parts of the United States reference may be
made to the “Summaries of Climatological Data by Sections”
(Bulletin W, U. S. Weather Bureau, 4to, Washington, D. C.,
1912. 2 vols. Price 5 cents for each section; 10 cents for any
three sections; $3 for entire set unbound. To be obtained
from the Superintendent of Documents, Washington, D. C.)
The period covered by the data varies. Reprints are issued
from time to time for the various sections, containing all the
data included in the first edition and also bringing the observa-
tions down to later dates. Several important additions to the
tables have also been made in the reprints. (See also, R. DeC.
Ward, “A Short Bibliography of United States Climatology,”
Journ. Geogr., Vol. 17, Dec., 1918, pp. 137-144.)

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

569

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

THE SCIENTIFIC MEETINGS
AT CHICAGO

THE American Association for
the Advancement of Science and
the special scientific societies affili-
ated with it meet at Chicago during
the week beginning December 27,
this being the seventy-third meeting
of the association, the eighteenth
convocation week meeting of scien-
tific societies, and the third of the
greater convocation week meetings
held at four year intervals in Wash-
ington, New York and Chicago. It
is planned that at these meetings in
our large centers of scientific popu-
lation there shall be a full represen-
tation of scientific societies and spe-
cial efforts to promote science and
the appreciation of science by the
largest possible public.

The promise for the Chicago
meeting is auspicious. In the past

four years science has successfully
met the supreme emergency of war.

and in the ensuing reconstruction
period it will be the principal fac-
tor in our complicated civilization.
These facts are perhaps more nearly
recognized than ever before, and the
approaching meeting will do much

both to advance science and to se-|

cure increased support of science by
public recognition. It is also the
case that every four year period
signalizes a further development of
scientific institutions and scientific
activities in the central and western
states, so that the center of scien-
tific population bids fare to corre-
spond with the general center of
population, and this circumstance
will be reflected by the approaching
meeting.

Dr. L. O. Howard, chief of the
Bureau of Entomology, United

States Department of Agriculture,
the president for the Chicago meet-
ing, has been permanent secretary
of the association for twenty-two
years, during which time the mem-
bership has increased from 1,729 to
over 12,000 and the meetings and
other activities of the association
have grown in proportion. As the
Chicago meeting celebrates the com-
pletion of Dr. Howard’s successful
administration, so it marks the be-
ginning of the secretaryship of Dr.
Burton E. Livingston, professor of
plant physiology at the Johns Hop-
kins University, during whose term
of office it may be expected that the
association will progress even more
rapidly than the science of the coun-
try on which it depends and which
it in turn promotes.

The address of the retiring presi-
dent will be given at the opening
general session on the evening of
December 27 by Dr. Simon Flexner,
director of the Rockefeller Institute
for Medical Research. Sessions of
general interest are planned for
fourteen sections of the association,
representing different fields of sci-
ence, and the retiring vice-presi-
dents for the sections will each give
an address on some broader aspect
of his own field. Some forty affili-
ated and associated societies will
hold meetings for the reading of
papers and for discussion.

Most of the sessions will be held
at the University of Chicago which
in a comparatively short period has
taken its place among the three or
four universities which are most
active in the advancement of science.

Only two previous meetings have

been held in Chicago, the first in
1866 and the second in 1908. The

570

earlier of these meetings repre-|
sented a new era in the work of the|
association, the meetings of which|
had been suspended during the war.
There had .been an informal meet-|
ing at Buffalo in 1864, attended by}
79 persons, and a meeting the fol-|
lowing year at Burlington was at-
tended by 73. At the time of the
meeting in 1868 the membership of |
the association was 428 and there
were 259 in attendance. The ses-|
sions were held in the assembly hall |
of the Y. M. C. A. and the Baptist |
church, the meeting being held)
under the auspices of the citizens
rather than of any educational or)
scientific body.

The meeting of 1908 was held at
the University of Chicago with an)
attendance of 723 members, and it)
was estimated that, counting mem-|
bers of the affiliated societies, there |
were some 2,000 scientific men in|
attendance. Dr. William H. Welch, |
of the Johns Hopkins University, |
gave the presidential address; Pro-|
fessor Edward L. Nichols, of Cor-|
nell University, presided, and the)
president elected was Professor T.
C. Chamberlin, of the University of
Chicago. It was one of the most
notable meetings of the association
that has been held, and it may be
expected that the meeting to be held |
at the end of December will make
new advances in scientific organiza-
tion, in scientific research and in the
appreciation and support of science
by the general public.

PROBLEMS OF A NATIONAL
ASSOCIATION FOR THE AD-
VANCEMENT OF SCIENCE

AN interchange of delegates be-
tween the American and British As-
sociations has been planned, and a
joint meeting of the two associations
on the common ground of Canada
could be arranged with advantage
both to science and to international
friendship. The British Associa-

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

tion, founded in 1831, was a model
for ours, and we still have much to
learn from it. For example, it is
doubtful whether the addresses of
the president and vice-president of
the American Association always
maintain as high an average stand-
ard of style, proportion and general
interest as those presented at Car-
diff, parts of which have been
printed in this journal.

There may also be faults that the
British and American Assocation
share and, in so far as this is the
case, the vigorous criticism of the
conduct of the British Association
that has been printed in Nature and
other English journals since the
Cardiff meeting should be of inter-
est here as well as there. Indeed it
must be admitted that the failure
of the association to keep in touch
with the general public—which is
the principal charge against the
British Association—is even more
obvious in the United States. There
is, however, this difference that
while the English press and the
people still pay more attention to
the scientific work of the associa-
tion and treat with greater con-
sideration men engaged in research,
there is a tendency for the two
countries to reach a common level.
Formerly the London Times gave
whole pages daily for a week to the
British Association, while now the
space is reduced to a column or two
and the topics treated are likely
to be education, economics and the
like. It seems that the same decrease
in interest, especially in the more
serious aspects of scientific work, is
shown at the place of meeting.
Still, it is the case that the local
committee at Cardiff spent about
$7,500 in entertaining the associa-
tion, which the Chicago committee
would probably regard as beyond
the resources of that rich city.

Some of the comments regardng

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

the British Association are as fol-
lows:

I think that our “ British Association ”
is in an unhealthy condition owing to the
attempt made by it—not deliberately, but
by constitutional looseness of purpose—to
combine the features of a friendly picnic
and smoking debate with the work of a
national conference dealing (under the
disadvantage of public ignorance and
journalistic inaccuracy) with great ques-
tions of national importance. A _ choice
must be made between “picnic” and
“conference.”’ I should prefer the picnic,
—wDB. Ray LANKESTER.

Unless the British Association becomes
democratic and acts as a real bond of

union between scientific men and the.

thinking public, rather than as a periodic
platform for personages, it does not seem
to fulfil any function worth continuing.
The public application of science is a
totally different thing from applied sci-
ence. This scientific synthesis and the
direction of the unique mental attitude,

induced only by the actual discovery of |

new knowledge, to the conduct of public
affairs are the real and peculiar functions
of the association if it is to regain its
national position. Curved space, isotopes,
and the economics of life on the floor of
the ocean are topics of great interest to
hundreds of the public. The standards
of truth which science has set up, and the
elevation of its pursuit above sophistry,
chicanery, and the monotonous motives of
self-interest, inspire the imagination of
hundreds of thousands. The British As-
sociation seems to be attacked by senile
paralysis just as a belief in science and
in the power of its methods is arising in
the world phenix-like from the ashes of
its old self—FREDERICK Soppy.

Your criticism of the British Associa-
tion, that it fails to touch our national
life, is most opportune; but whereas you
imply merely that it is decadent, to me
it seems to be practically defunct. An
active worker on its behalf in the past, I
have little hope of its resuscitation and
doubt if it can ever again fulfil the de
sires of its early promoters, who un-

571

ceeds to say, “but they are all human.”
Se are the present exploiters of the
British Association, though were it not
human to be selfish some might even dub
them inhuman on account of the narrow-
ness of their outlook and their disregard
of public needs—HENRY E. ARMSTRONG.

These are the more extreme criti-
cisms. Letters and articles in de-
fense of the association have also ap-
peared and the honorary secretaries,
Professors J. L. Myers and H. H.
Turner have prepared a statement
answering criticisms and outlining
plans for the future work of the
association.

THE ORGANIZATION OF SCI-
ENTIFIC RESEARCH UNDER
THE BRITISH GOVERN-
MENT

Our federal government has more

| scientific men in its bureaus and

‘work than any other nation.

doubtedly held its primary function to be.

that of advancing public appreciation of
scientific discovery. I have always de-
plored our failure to appeal to the public.
Seemingly, the spirit of sacrifice is gone
out of science; strange to say, the herd
instinct is altogether wanting in our so-
ciety, so uncontrolled is our individuality.
The assumed author of “The Beggar’s
Opera,” after remarking of his charac-
ters, “There’s not an honourable man
among them, nor an honest woman,” pro-

devotes larger sums to scientific
An
immense amount of useful work is
accomplished, but individual initia-
tive is likely to be submerged by
routine. It may, therefore, be worth
while to note how the British Gov-
ernment has met the situation dur-
ing and since the war period.

The last report of the Committee
of the Privy Council for Scientific
and Industrial Research contains an
account by Sir William McCormick
of its activities since its foundation
in 1915. According to an abstract
in the Spectator the program which
has been elaborated by the advisory
council during these five years
classes its functions under four
main heads. First comes the en-
couragement of individual workers
at research. The special claims
made by the needs of the war prac-
tically denuded the universities of
research workers. Now that peace
has returned other dangers have
arisen. On the one hand, the uni-

_versities are overcrowded with stu-
dents, and the demands of teaching

572

are leading to an impending short-
age of those research workers, with-
out whom no science can advance.
On the other hand, the revival of
industry is tempting men away from
“the corps of research workers”
into the service of the great manu-
facturing corporations. During the
past four academical years the Ad-
visory Council has spent about £50,-
000 in maintenance grants to re-
search workers, and it expects to
spend nearly as much in the forth-
coming year. “No conditions are
attached to the grants made to
workers whose sole aim is the ex-
tension of knowledge, either as to
the line of their work or as to the
use to be made of the results,”
though, of course, great care
taken that the recipients of state
aid should be genuine workers at
the solution of a knotty problem.
The second part of the program
includes the organization of research
associations for special industries.
A large and wealthy firm has its
own laboratories and its own staff
of chemists or physicists. But in
many industries the firms are too
small to do this work for them-
selves, and in all industries coopera-
tion saves waste and duplication of
effort. A fund of a million sterling
was authorized by Parliament to as-
sist in the establishment of research
associations, of which eighteen are
already at work and five others have
been approved. The firms connected
with the existing associations have
undertaken to raise an annual sum
of nearly £40,000 for their purposes,
and it is probable that this income
will be largely exceeded as the bene-
fits derived from research become
practically apparent. The indus-
tries which already have research
associations in existence are those
of cotton, linen, wool, leather, boot-
making, laundering, sugar, cocoa
and jam, motoring, glass, iron, non-
ferrous metals, rubber, photography,

is

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

scientific instruments, Portland ce-
ment, refractory materials, and shale
oil. It is much to be hoped that the
rapid growth of these promising in-
fants will soon convince industry as
a whole of the necessity for scien-
tific research as a basis for the
profitable union of Capital and
Labor.

The third item in the program
of the Advisory Council is the con-
duct and co-ordination of national
research; in other words, provision
for dealing at the national expense
“with certain fundamental prob-
lems which were of such wide appli-
cation that no single industry, how-
ever intelligent or highly organ-
ized, could hope to grapple with
them effectively.” The first of these
basic problems is that of fuel, to
study which the Fuel Research
Board was established in 1917.
Closely allied is the conservation of
coal and mineral resources. The
problem of the preservation of food
and that of building materials and
construction are also being handled
by special Boards. The Geological
Survey and the National Physical
‘Laboratory have been handed over
‘to the Research Department. The
Radio Research Board takes its
place beside three new boards, deal-
ing respectively with chemistry,
physics and engineering, to coordi-
/nate the scientific work still required
for the fighting services. The
fourth item of the program is the
‘granting of aid to scientific and
professional societies for purposes
of research.

ENGLISH MEDICAL LABORA-
TORIES

MEDICAL service in England is
‘more elaborately organized under
the control of the state than in the
United States. There is a Ministry
of Health which has appointed a
medical consultive council and this
council has presented a report which

THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

is now under consideration. The)
British Medical Journal prints an
abstract according to which it is
pointed out that medical treatment
must be both individual and com-
munal, and that individual treat-
ment may be either domiciliary or
institutional. By communal treat-
ment is to be understood pre-natal
and maternity care, child welfare,
the inspection and treatment of
school children, dental treatment,
clinics for early tuberculosis, and
facilities for physical culture. The
general conception is that domicil-
lary treatment in each district
should be based on a “ Primary
Health Center.” This institution
would be conducted by the general
practitioners of the district, and
would be provided with an efficient
nursing service. It would be linked
with a “Secondary Health Center” in
some town conveniently placed in
relation to the means of communi-
eation. Opportunities would be pro-
vided for consultation, either at the
primary center or at the homes of
the patients, with physicians, sur-
geons, and specialists of the second-
ary center, which would itself be
brought into corresponding relation
with a medical school hospital.

A sketch is given of a scheme for
laboratory services. The first and
essential function of the laboratory
at a primary center would be to
give facilities to the general prac-
titioner; it would be so equipped as
to enable him personally to make
any examinations he desired to
undertake. The equipment would
be supplied from the secondary cen-
ter and adapted to meet any in-
crease in knowledge, skill and inter-
est displayed by the practitioners
concerned. Some person must be
placed in charge of such a labora-
tory; it is thought that his qualifi-
cations might vary with the size,
geographical situation, and special
needs of the center.

573

The laboratory of a secondary
center should provide ample accom-
modation and equipment, and its
senior staff should be highly quali-
fied to do clinical laboratory work,
both for the primary center and for
the hospital of the secondary cen-
ter; it would also do postgraduate
teaching. The head of the labora-
tory would be a well qualified pa-
thologist, and the staff would com-
prise specialists in morbid anatomy,
bacteriology, and pathological chem-
istry. Some of the assistants would
be preparing for the higher posts in
the service; others in an interme-
diate class, would furnish recruits
for the staff of the primary center.

The laboratory of the secondary

| center would be linked with the chief

or university center, which would
have a special laboratory for health
services distinct from a professorial
department, though in close contact
with it. A separate health services
laboratory would protect the aca-
demic staff from routine, leaving it
tree for teaching and fundamental
research work. The staff of the

health services laboratory would be

recruited from that service and be
dependent upon meritorious per-
formance within it. At the same
time it is recognized that no rigid
barrier should be erected between
the academic pathologist and those
engaged in the health services.
Though there would be two distinct
careers, circumstances would often
cause individuals to pass from one
to the other.

The health services laboratory of
a university center in addition to
the routine work, would carry out
the more difficult investigations re-
ferred to it from the subsidiary
centers, but it might also under-
take much of the routine work for
the university hospital. The direc-
tor of such a laboratory would rank
with a university professor, but

‘would usually be a distinguished

o74

pathologist with tastes inclined to)

organization and administration
rather than teaching.

With regard to research, it is
suggested that the organization
throughout the proposed health
service would facilitate inquiry into
the causes of disease. It is sug-
gested that the facts showing the
need for inquiry might often be
brought together in the first place
by the medical practitioners in a
locality; the manner in which it
should be further prosecuted would
depend upon the subject, but re-
search into fundamental problems
would still continue to be conducted
through the university and the Med-
ical Research Council.
organization of laboratories in touch

with every branch of the health,

services would, it is believed, pro-

vide opportunity for systematic in-|

vestigation and team work. The di-
rector of the health services labo-
ratory at the university center
would be in a position to start ma-
chinery for the intensve investiga-

A national |

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

forty-four years associate and pro-
fessor of chemistry at the Johns
Hopkins University; of Samuel
James Meltzer, head of the depart-
ment of physiology and pharma-
cology of the Rockefeller Institute
for Medical Research; of Arthur
Searle, professor emeritus of astron-
omy at Harvard University; of
Isadore Dyer, dean of the medical
school of Tulane University; of
Yves Delage, professor of zoology
at the Sorbonne, Paris, and of Sven
Leonhard Térnquist, professor of
geology at Lund.

NOBEL prizes have been awarded
to Dr. Jules Bordet, professor of
bacteriology at Brussels, and Dr.
August Krogh, professor of physi-
ology at Copenhagen.—Professor
Stephen Moulton Babcock, of the
University of Wisconsin, inventor
of the Babcock test for determining
the amount of butter fat in milk,
reached his seventy-seventh birth-
| day on October 22, and in honor of

tion of any urgent problem, and the event and of his work a univer-
with the goodwill of the general prac- | sity convocation was held. Profes-
titioners the investigation would in- SOF Babcock is engaged in active
clude cases never available in the work in his laboratory.

i :
wards of a hospital. In particular, THE International Congress of

the earliest stages of disease might | Mathematicians at the Strasbourg

be made the subject of organized meeting accepted the invitation pre-

research, which, it is hoped, might sented by Professor Leonard E.

be subsidized and perhaps aed ASD | Dickson to hold the next congress in

vised by the Medical Research | now Vleck 1094 Aa aeu dees

Council. /national Congress of Physiologists,

held in Paris, it was resolved, on the

SCIENTIFIC ITEMS invitation of Sir E. Sharpey Scha-

WE record with regret the death| fer, to hold the next meeting in
of Harmon Northrop Morse, for Edinburgh in 1923.

INDEX

575

INDEX

_ NAMES OF CONTRIBUTORS ARE PRINTED IN SMALL CAPITALS

Abaco, GEORGE STERLING LEE, 159

Aeroplane Engineering,
in, C. F. JENKIN, 325

Agassiz’s Essay on Classification,
EUGENE R. Corson, 43

Alloys, Scientific Study of, C. T.
Heycock, 303

American Association for the Ad-
vancement of Science, Pacific Di-
vision, 95

ANGELL, JAMES ROLAND, Organiza-
tion of Research, 25

| Democracy’s Opportunity, STEWART

Materials |
|DUNLAP, KNIGHT,

Anthropology, Problems of, KARL

PEARSON, 451

Bacteria, Ancient, Roy L. Mooprm,

362
BAHRET, JAMES L., Growth of New
York and Suburbs, 404
BARCROFT, J. R., Oxygen Supply to
the Tissues, 440

BARNES, HENRY ELMER, History of

Science, 112

BaTHER, F. A., Fossils and Life, 429

BLAIR, ROBERT, Individual Child and
Methods of Teaching, 459

Buiair, THOMAS ARTHUR, The Mathe-
matician, the Farmer and the
Weather, 353

British Association for the Ad-
Seine of Science, 289, 379,
4

BROWNE, C. A., The Poem of Theo-
phrastos, 193 :

BRYAN, Kirk, Physiography in Mili-
tary Operations, 385

BurGEss, GEORGE K., Governmental
Research, 341

Civil Service Employees, Retirement
of, 191

CLAPHAM, J. H., Europe After the
Napoleonic War, 320

CLARK, Paut F., Joseph Lister, 518

Climates, United States, ROBERT
DEC. Warp, 555

COCKERELL, T. D. A., The Industrial
Problem, 66

Coker, RosertT E., Diamond-back
Terrapin, 171

Corson, EUGENE R., Agassiz’s Es-
say on Classification, 43

Cultivation, Intensive, FREDERICK
KEEBLE, 445

PATON, 254

Scientific Psy-
chology, 502

EDDINGTON, A. S., Internal Consti-
tution of ‘the Stars, 297

Education and Learning in America,
ARTHUR GORDON WEBSTER, 419

English Harbor, C. C. Nutrine, 72

Europe, after the Napoleonic War,
J. H. CLAPHAM, 320; Maps of,
ae the War, JOHN MCFARLANE,

Evolution’s Most Romantic Moment,
Roy L. Mooprg, 464

Food Prejudices, VILHJALMUR STE-
FANSSON, 540
Fossils and Life, F. A. BATHER, 429

GARDINER, J. STANLEY, W' ‘oes
Zoology Stand? 308
Gorgas, William Cr-

HANCE, ROBERT T., Z
A. E. F., 365

Harris, D. FRASER, Medic
lied Professions, 236

HERDMAN, W. A., Oceanogra,
the Sea-Fisheries, 289

Heredity, E. R. SAUNDERS, -
Analysis of, CHARLES ZELEN
263

Heycock, C. T., Scientific Study of
Alloys, 303

Hippocratic Theory and the Nature
Philosophers, JONATHAN WRIGHT,
127

History of Science, HARRY ELMER
BARNES, 112

HUNTINGTON, EDWARD V., Musical
Notation, 276

Individual Child and Methods of
Teaching, ROBERT BLAIR, 459

Industrial Problem, T. D. A. CocK-
ERELL, 66

James Wilson, Tribute to the Mem-
ory of, 478

JENKIN, C. F., Materials in Aero-
plane Engineering, 325

JORDAN, Davin STARR, Ancient Moon-
fish, 470

076

KEEBLE, FREDERICK, Intensive Cul-
tivation, 445

LEE, GEORGE STERLING, Abaco, 159

Lister, Joseph, PAUL F. CLARK, 518

Luoyp, A. H., Philosophy of Her-
bert Spencer, 97

McFARLANE, JOHN, Map of Europe
after the War, 314

Mathematician, the Farmer and the
Wesmen THOMAS ARTHUR BLAIR,
53

Medical and Allied Professions, D.
FRASER HARRIS, 236

Moopir, Roy L., Ancient Bacteria, |

362; Evolution’s Most Romantic
Moment, 464
Moonfish, Ancient,
JORDAN, 470
Municipal University, E. L. TAtL-
BERT, 151
Musical Notation, EDwARD V. HuN-
TINGTON, 276

New York and Suburbs, Growth of,
JAMES L. BAHRET, 404

Norton, F. H., Scientific Reports,
548

NuTTING, C. C., English Harbor, 72

DAvID STARR

Oceanography and the Sea-Fisher-
ies, W. A. HERDMAN, 289

Oxygen Supply to the Tissues, J. R.
BARCROFT, 440

Ozark Highland, Economie Problem
of the, CARL A. SAUER, 215

PATON, STEWART, Democracy’s Op-
portunity, 254

PAYNE, ARTHUR FRANK, Scientific |

Selection of Men, 544
PEARSON, KARL, Problems of Anthro-

pology, 451
Physiography in Military Opera-
tions, KirK BRYAN, 385
Platinum, The Supply of, 190;
Thefts, 191

Poot, RAYMOND J., Timber-line in
Tahosa, 481

Population, Foreign-born and Ne-
gro, of the United States, 284;
Distribution by Age and Sex, 287;
in 1920, 474; Distribution, 476

Progress of Scence, 92, 187, 284, |

379, 474, 569

Psychology, Scientific, KNIGHT DUN-
LAP, 502

Research, Governmental, E. B. Rosa,

THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

5, 141, 246; GrorGE K. BurcgEss,
341; Organization of, JAMES Row-

| LAND ANGELL, 25

Rockefeller’s Gift for Education, 92

| ROGERS, JAMES FREDERICK, The

| Physical Spencer, 53

Rosa, Epwarp B., Scientific Work

_ of the Government, 5, 141, 246

SAUER, CARL A., Economic Problem
of Ozark Highland, 215

SAUNDERS, E. R., Heredity, 335

Scientific, Work of the Government,
EpwarD B. Rosa, 5, 141, 246;
Pan Pacific Congress, 96; Items,
96, 192, 288, 384, 480, 574;
Investigation of the Ocean, 381;
Selection of Men, ARTHUR FRANK
PAYNE, 544; Psychology, KNIGHT
DUNLAP, 502; Reports, F. H. Nor-
TON, 548

SMITH, ARTHUR WHITMORE, John
Tyndall, 331

Spencer, Herbert, Philosophy of, A.
H. Luoyp, 97; The Physical, JAMES
FREDERICK ROGERS, 53

Stars, Internal Constitution of, A.
S. EDDINGTON, 297

Food

STEFANSSON, VILHJALMUR,
Suns, Giant, H. H. TURNER, 228

Prejudices, 540

TALBERT, E. L., A Municipal Uni-
versity, 151

Terrapin, Diamond-back, ROBERT E.
CoKER, 171

Theophrastos, The Poem of, C. A.
BROWNE, 193

Timber-line in Tahosa, RAYMOND J.
Poot, 481

| TURNER, H. H., Giant Suns, 228

Tyndall, John, ARTHUR WHITMORE
SMITH, 331

Warp, Ropert DeC., United States
Climates, 555

WEBSTER, ARTHUR GORDON, Educa-
tion and Learning in America, 419

WRIGHT, JONATHAN, Hippocratic
Theory and the Nature Philoso-
phers, 127

ZELENY, CHARLES, Analysis of He-
redity, 263

Zoology, Where does it Stand? J.
STANLEY GARDINER, 308; in the
A. E. F., Ropert T. Hance, 365

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